Within the Cross
by TaintedSpells
Summary: Téa ran to escape those who would keep her from her dreams. Once away, she was not prepared for the consequences. Now, alone and struggling, a chance tarot reading threatens to upheave what happiness remains. A thief lives for one thing alone: himself.
1. The Prologue

_**Title:** Within the Cross_

_**Pairing:** Téa x Bakura_

_**Rating:** M_

A/N:

I probably shouldn't be here. Nope, I am POSITIVE I shouldn't be here, but before I can finish my other stories, I need to do this. Badly.

Okay, so I've wanted to write something like this for a while now, and finally I had the inspiration to start it. Mostly because I realized the lack of BakuraxTéa and an exceeding growth of SetoxTéa (even though I am a rabid azureshipper). Of course I am excluding the mountains and mountains of yaoi… [Stares at the fan girls] Sorry, but no yaoi action here to be seen. So I say good day! [Flips her cape behind her shoulder]

It's not going to be a very long fiction; ten chapters long including the prologue and epilogue. But then again, the chapters are really long, so…

In regards to the timeline, I have it set where everything is canon up until around mid/end Battle City. And then it kind of splits off into an alternate timeline… Yeah. So I'm making a 'few' creative changes to suit my needs. Ugh, writing a completely canon Yu-Gi-Oh story is hard and I prostrate myself in front of those who have succeeded.

Quick note: Prologue's short, and nothing like the rest of the story. It's just a tad bit of background that sets things up. Just thought I'd let you know.

* * *

**Disclaimer: For now, and for all future chapters, Yu-Gi-Oh! And all affiliated titles do not belong to me.** Honestly. I'm just here for fun, not profit.

* * *

_**Chapter One:**_

**The Prologue**

* * *

Bakura shook with fury as he watched his life points spin down until they hit zero. Yugi, standing before him, a smug, triumphant look plastered across his face, didn't blink as his signature Dark Magician faded out of existence. Behind him, his friends cheered wildly, Téa amongst them, and she cheered louder than them all.

"Way ta go, Yug'!" exclaimed Joey, punching his fist in the air, nearly taking off Tristan's ear in the process.

"Hey, watch it, man!"

Téa ignored the two dunces, watching Yugi close his duel disk, speaking to Bakura in chiding tones. "You were a fool to challenge me, Bakura, especially with such high risks." He pointed sharply at him, his eyes drawn down. "You know the deal. I lose, you get my Millennium Puzzle. I win, you leave me and my friends alone-- forever."

_Way to tell him, Yugi! _whispered Téa's thoughts excitedly. For a while, she thought that the battle may have belonged to their once dear friend, but in the end Yugi pulled through- as if there was any other option when it came to him!

_But it's not Yugi, _reminded her hesitant thoughts. _It's the Pharaoh… remember?_

A delightful shudder ran through her body, her eyes fluttering closed. She went unnoticed as she thought of the spirit's velvet tones, the way he held himself up in the face of even the scariest of foes. He was such a powerful and courageous presence, and every time she thought of him, she just…

"I'm very clear of the terms _I _set, _Pharaoh," _seethed Bakura, and just to make a point, he already began to walk backwards, away from the group of friends who were quickly gathering closer together to watch. "But you best be on your toes; your Millennium Puzzle _will _be mine."

Any other time, Téa would have shrugged off such a threat, just like all her other friends were doing right now, especially with Joey who was firing off less than respectable comments towards the white-haired opponent. However, there had been a strange, almost uncomfortable force behind each and every one of Bakura's words, so much so that she was compelled to believe everything that he said. He _would _be back, and the puzzle _would _be his, despite everything else that said otherwise.

"You'll never get your thieving hands upon the puzzle," declared Yugi with just as much force, pulling Téa out of her thoughts, "and the sooner you realize this, the sooner you'll--"

"Find _peace, _Pharaoh?" interrupted Bakura snidely. He laughed sharply, his pearly whites shining in his dangerously perfect smile. "There is only one way I will find your so-called peace, and it happens to be hanging around your neck." Then, as an afterthought, he waved his hand around in the air, "And in some other interesting places, I'm sure."

He dropped his arm and turned, angling himself so he could just barely look back at them. "Perhaps I will go and get them first. And then…" Another chuckle, and he turned away fully, beginning to walk away, under the abandoned overpass deep within the darker part of the city. "Well. Let's just say I'm _sure _we'll meet again."

Bakura waved his hand in the air up until he disappeared. Yugi's eyes never wavered once, not until he was sure his opponent was long gone. Then, he sighed, allowing himself to relax.

Téa walked up to him, standing next to him, folding her hands together behind him. "So, do you think he'll come back?" she asked, her blue eyes shyly unable to meet with his strangely crimson ones. It didn't matter much anyways, because he was looking back to where Bakura had disappeared.

"Yes," he answered with no hesitation. "He will."

Téa sighed. "I was afraid of that."

Apparently the tone in her voice was enough for Yugi to look back down at her. She could feel the force of his gaze upon her, and she was obligated to look back at him, even though every time she did, she felt as if her knees turned to jelly. She couldn't read his expression- she doubted she would ever be able to- but if she knew anything about him, she could have sworn she saw a flash of concern within the depths of his irises.

Then, she blinked, and crimson became violet, and the strong presence vanished, revealing her best friend and long time companion, and she knew without a doubt that in _his _eyes- Yugi Mutou's eyes- he was definitely concerned.

She smiled sheepishly, scratching her head. "Oh, don't give me that look. I'm fine, Yugi! See?" She jumped a little, taking in a deep breath, fisting her hands on her hips, and puffing out her chest. "Fine!"

She knew, despite her little show, that he didn't believe her, but Yugi never pushed. "Alright, Téa," he said quietly, a small- was it forced?- smile on his face. "If you say so."

The air left Téa, and her shoulders slumped. "Yugi…" Why did he look so hurt all of a sudden?

"Hey you two!" called out Joey, waving them to follow. "We're goin' out for a bite to eat ta celebrate. So are you two just gunna sit there an' chat, or are ya gunna stuff your faces?"

"Stuff our faces!" cheered Téa and Yugi in unison, although he still seemed less enthused than before. Téa couldn't really think of a reason why; she hadn't done anything to him.

_Maybe he's concerned about Bakura…_

Thinking of Bakura caused her to turn out of a compulsion to look back at the blackness that he had disappeared into. If she concentrated on it for long enough, she could have sworn that he was still there, his dark brown eyes still watching them, waiting for the right moment to strike…

"Téa! Are you coming?"

It was Yugi calling to her from the group. Startled and a bit embarrassed, she ran to catch up with the rest of her friends-- but not without looking one last time behind her at the figure in the shadows.

But as soon as she thought she saw him, his arms crossed, his irises lowered in a mysterious, deadly expression, he was gone, remaining to be simply a illusion.

_Man, I'm losing it. Maybe it's because I'm so hungry._

Shaking off her foreboding thoughts, she caught up with everyone else who quickly set about to making fun of her and her rapidly shortening attention span. Returning the jibes in kind was enough to distract her from the feeling of eyes upon her back. But then, they disappeared completely, the remains of his presence fading away completely.

It would be two years until she saw him again.

--


	2. The Meeting

* * *

_**Chapter Two:**_

**The Meeting**

* * *

Téa awoke to the sound of her alarm blaring at four in the afternoon. She quickly became aware of the late afternoon sun blazing in her room, accompanied with a sticky, uncomfortable heat that clung to her skin like a wet blanket. Twisting herself in her stale, striped sheets, she blindly reached out to switch off her clock. Nearly knocking it off her nightstand in the process, the loud, piercing noise finally fell into silence. Letting out a huge sigh, she sunk back into her pillow, already exhausted.

The previous night at work had sucked the energy clean out of her. The men had been particularly rambunctious that evening, driving she and the rest of the hostesses insane. She knew it was her job to be as pleasant as possible, but when too many men became too fresh with her, pleasant was no longer in the realm of possibility.

_He deserved it, _thought Téa with a grumble, recalling how satisfied she had felt when her hand connected with the man's pudgy face, his cheek fat jiggling like some coagulated meat concoction. Of course Roland, her boss and owner of the joint, hadn't been very happy when she came back with half of her projected payment.

"_If you weren't so popular with the guests, I would have thrown you to the scumbags long ago," _he would say in his thick British accent to her every time she lost her temper. It was satisfying to know that she held some amount of power, but she wasn't dumb; if he wanted to, he could give that next struggling star a chance to shine, and toss her out, leaving her jobless, eventually homeless, and she would end up back on the pole.

It had been a brief experience, a week at most, but that had been enough. Just thinking about it made her stomach churn, and a sense of angry resolve settled over her.

"I won't ever go back," she murmured to the world more than to herself. "Not even Roland can make me."

At least, that's what she said. It didn't affect the cold hard facts: she was low on money, struggling in a place far from home, there due to circumstance and an accumulation of poorly made choices. Despite it all, there wasn't any going back- she didn't _want _to go back. She made the decision on her own free will, readily and assuredly. Going back would mean admitting defeat, and if there was one quality about her that hadn't changed through her ordeal, it was that she was _not _a quitter.

_Mom and Dad, I _will _prove you wrong. _She sat up, beginning to strip as she left her bedroom and entering the bathroom. _I can make it on my own, and someday I _will _make it into Jullliard, and I _will _become a dancer-- even without your help._

It was slowly turning into a mantra, something she reminded herself of with an echo of her steely resolve she refused to let rust and fall away. Every time she said it though, it seemed to lose a bit of it's force, or at least what truth was contained within the promise. Of course she never acknowledged this, but within her hearts of hearts, she knew it to be true.

The faucet squeaked as she turned it on, the ear-imploding quality to the high-pitched squeal it created no longer affecting her. The water sputtered out of the calcium-coated shower head in short, cold bursts. As she waited for the water to heat up, she looked herself over in the mirror. Despite a few bruises on her calves and buttocks, she wasn't too badly beaten up. Her body still retained it's healthy, strong appearance, and every curve she had barely changed from her time in high school. Her hair was a bit longer, just a bit past her shoulders, and maybe the glow she once had was a little dimmer, but she liked to think that the fire she would sometimes spot in her cerulean blue eyes was still there. She certainly didn't let anyone step on her. Perhaps it was that 'Brooklyn Backbone' Chichi had informed her she would have to grow if she wanted to survive.

The water finally began to run evenly, and Téa jumped in, eager to rid herself of her sweat and stench she had been too tired to take care of when she had finally gotten home around three that morning. Not stingy with the body wash, she poured copious amounts of the floral-scented soap into her loofah, scrubbing at her peach skin with a passion. Her hair soon followed suit, and fifteen minutes later, she stepped out of the shower, wrapping one of two towels she had around her naked form, the other going up atop her head. Wiping her hand across her foggy mirror, she gave herself one last glance, stuck her tongue playfully at the pink-faced girl in the mirror, and moved to get herself ready for the day.

Her daily routine was welcome. It gave her a sense of normality, despite what had happened the past two years after leaving Japan. She loved it so much, she got really good at it, and in the shortest amount of steps humanly possible, a teapot was heating over the one burner that worked, bread was cooking in the toaster, and a water and food bowl were balancing on one of her arms as she swallowed her pills in the other hand.

"Ma-aaax!" she called out, pushing the living room window wide open, stepping out onto the fire escape just outside. A welcomed, cool breeze swept across her still drying form, and she shivered delightfully as she set down the bowls. "Here kitty, kitty, kitty!"

She waited for a moment, and then returned inside, knowing her 'roomie' was probably still out messing with the other neighborhood felines. She wished him to have a good time, show 'em whose boss, and then plucked her toast out of the toaster, slathering it with butter. The teapot began to whistle shrilly, so with a slice of toast hanging out of her mouth, she moved it off the heat and poured the small amount of water into her only mug-- a souvenir Minnie gave her when she visited Disneyland, ironically with Minnie the Mouse on the side. Dropping a bag of green tea into the hot water, she carried it with her to the bedroom, finishing off her toast in the process.

Entering her room again, she was confronted with an unpleasant sight: her mess. The past few days, she had been so busy with work and frantically paid bills, she hadn't once bothered to pick up her haphazardly tossed clothes, or the occasional junk food wrapper.

Smiling meekly to herself, she promised to clean after she got off work, no matter how tired she was. Another promise stowed away, she set about to packing her duffle bag with her evening clothes, choosing her casual wear along the way. Her nose twitched as the smell of oriental food wafted through the air. Glancing over, her eyes caught sight of her clock, the time reading 4:35, and she quickened her pace. She needed to be at work by five, lest she find herself at the wrong end of Roland's 'constructive criticism'.

Dressed in shorts and a plain pink t-shirt, she double-checked everything, making sure everything was off and shut, and then she rushed out of the door, locking it soundly behind her.

If the smell of the food was strong before, it was nothing compared to the smell downstairs, within the small restaurant she lived above. Ducking under lowly hung paper lanterns, Téa weaved through tables and newly placed chairs, her destination the swinging doors leading to the kitchen.

"Chichi, I'm leaving!" she called out in Japanese, pushing her way into the steamy kitchen. The smell of chili peppers hit her full force, and she sneezed, rubbing her watering eyes with the back of her hand.

"Téa!" The graying head of an older Japanese woman appeared out the side of a hanging pan, the small collection of wrinkles around her eyes and forehead drawn down in a scowl. "What's this I hear, you coming in during the wee hours of the morning? I bet you didn't even eat anything before you left!"

Téa felt a bit intimidated, being reprimanded for two things within the space of three seconds. She smiled nervously, her hands coming up to protect herself on their own accord as the short, but no less frightening, woman came marching towards her, hands on her hip, a wooden spoon in said hand. She shook it at the panicky girl warningly.

"If I go upstairs and find you passed out again, I'll kick you right out of that apartment I'm so generously letting you live in. What's the point of a body up there when it's not a breathing one!"

"I swear Chichi, I did eat. In fact, the finished takeout box is sitting in my garbage can as we speak." She placed her hand over her heart. "I promise!"

Chichi managed to look down her nose at Téa, despite the foot and a half difference between them, but after a moment of intense scrutiny, the older woman released Téa from her invisible powers, scuttling back to her pot of hot pork. "I'll send you some fresh rice and chow mein later on. And I want to _see _those empty cartons, you hear me? And get a new job! You're better than that smelly testosterone hovel!"

Téa was already backing up through the door. "Of course, Chichi. Thank you, Chichi!"

"You have work here tomorrow, Téa! Eight 'o clock, and you better not be late!"

"Never, Chichi. Bye!" She escaped no more worse for wear than before. Casting a smile back at the kitchen, she pulled the bag's strap up to sit on her shoulder, and she left the restaurant.

All five senses were immediately assaulted with the smells, sounds, tastes, sights, and feelings of Chinatown, New York. An escaped food stand nearly ran her foot right over as it sped right past her, the struggling owner stumbling right behind it as both of them pushed through the thickening crowd. Rolling her eyes, she turned and headed in the opposite direction, up the steep sidewalk, following her steps from so many nights from before.

She hadn't been so sure, upon first arriving in the States, more specifically, New York, New York, that she would be able to find a place within the famous concrete jungle. Of course she had heard the saying, "If you can't make it in New York, you can't make it anywhere," but despite that, she was a young girl thrown into a very big playground. Certainly, the first few days were the scariest, her English not as good as she wished it would be, and the evidence of her being an outsider evidently clear. It took time, and the fateful meeting with Chichi, for her to finally fall into the current that was the Big Apple.

_I don't even want to begin to imagine what would have happened to me if Chichi hadn't helped._

So perhaps she wasn't entirely independent, but everyone needed some sort of help, and that included her. At least it wasn't the kind of help that everyone she knew was trying to force upon her shoulders. She didn't want handouts, she didn't want sympathy favors, and she certainly didn't want anything from anyone that did it because _he _requested it.

The check she got from him in the mail two months ago was immediately ripped up. She didn't even glance at the numbers. She didn't need to; she knew he would have given her anything if she asked, and without asking, the ink from his pen would flow freely on it's own accord. She would accept no amount of money. She left for a reason: to be her own person. The soon he- _everyone- _got it through their thick heads, the sooner they could begin to get their relationships back on track.

She hopped onto the bus, picking a seat near the front, far away from the creeps- dangerous or otherwise- who tended to sit in the back. More of the stranger ones, ones who she was almost positive suffered from psychological diseases, also sat in the front, but were relatively harmless. She listened to one of them, a middle-aged man, ramble on about his day, and which busses he took, naming of each individual bus number, and their extensive routes. Meanwhile, she stared out the window, watching Chinatown begin to blend in with the essence of New York as they reached the point where the two cultures met, reds fading into blues, sidewalk stands disappearing and being replaced with more people. She counted the stops as they passed, tapping her fingers against the duffle bag's strap.

_I really need to get a car, _she thought, leaning her head against the glass. It was a very distant goal, phone, insurance, and rent sucking up what money she made, leaving her with very little recreational income. For now, she would just have to deal with the weirdos.

Her stop was coming up, so she signaled the driver to stop. Barely waiting for the doors to open, she squeezed her way through, yanking her bag along with her, before breaking into a brisk jog, heading towards the corner building, Old English neon font blazing, 'Higgins'. Bypassing the front doors, she went into the alley to the employee's door. Ignoring the guard who stood by, she went in, clocking in with two minutes to spare.

"Téa!" A curly-haired blonde called out in a heavy Brooklyn accent, a perfectly manicured hand swinging in the air, a thick, worn book held tightly in her grasp. She ran up to her, only half dressed, wearing only a red skirt and a black bra. "Hey, thank you _so _much for lending me this book. I aced dat test, no prob'!"

Téa plucked the book from her hand, walking towards her mirror, 'Téa' written in red lipstick at the top. "Minnie, watch your accent. You know Roland doesn't like it around the customers." Téa brought a hand up to her chest as if pulling at the edge of an invisible jacket, straightened her back, and mimicked Roland to near perfection, "Men want civilized, obedient girls, not ones pulled off the street with a switchblade in their knickers."

"Oh!" She brought a hand up to cup her mouth, as if to push the words back in. "Oh sorry, I forgot." She shared a look with her friend, and then both of the girls burst into a fit of laughter. She followed after Téa, who was busy unpacking her bag, her words adopting a more feminine manner. "Well, anyways, thanks for the book."

"It was no problem at all, Minnie. All it was doing was collecting dust in my closet."

"Wasn't that just the best kind of luck? My best friend having a book on Ancient Egypt of all places!"

"Yeah," laughed Téa emptily as she slid into a black dress, "lucky."

She never did tell Minnie just why she had the book, and Minnie never bothered to ask, so it remained unnoticed and unknown. Which was just fine with Téa. She was there in New York to bury her past, not pull it out in front of everyone and flash it obnoxiously. Besides, what mattered was that she could help, and by how quickly Minnie was rambling on about something, she helped quite a bit.

"I'm gunna get into college, no sweat, at this rate!" breathed the blonde as she reached the end of her rant. "I'm gunna--"

"Going, Minnie," corrected Téa again as she put on her mascara. The irony that a Japanese woman was correcting an American's English was not lost on her, but no one seemed to mind, least of all her friend.

"Whoops, sorry. I'm _going _to be the first one in my family to have a secondary education. Isn't that something?"

"It is, and I wish you the best of luck!" Capping her lipstick, she turned around and hugged her friend firmly. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Aww, give me more credit than that, Téa!" giggled Minnie. She swept across the end of her nose with her thumb, winking at her. "I'm a lot tougher than I look!"

Téa suppressed the wave of nostalgia around her, doing her best not to make any stupid comments. Upon their first meeting, it did not take Téa long to compare two and two and realize just who Minnie so perfectly reminded her of.

_Tough attitude, loyal to the very end. A bit hot-headed… She's just like--_

And then the thought would end because she would not mention any names from her past, unless she wanted to wake up crying again tomorrow. Swallowing down the momentary feeling of sickness, she nodded at Minnie. "Yeah, I know you're strong. You'll do just fine."

Minnie nodded briskly. "Yeah!"

The sound of the door from the lounge opening brought everyone's attention to the back of the changing room. A man in his mid forties, dressed in a dark suit, his slightly graying hair combed and gelled back and close to his head, was smoking a pipe in the doorway. He looked over the girls, his eyes settling momentarily on Téa. She looked away, and he cleared his throat.

"Evening, ladies."

"Good evening, Roland," replied everyone in unison, including Téa, even though hers was a mumble.

"Alright girls, we've got quite a busy night tonight," he said as he walked forward through the half-naked group of women as easily as if he were strolling through the cereal isle at the supermarket. "Sherry, you'll be watching booths one and two. Jasmine, you're at three through five. And Téa…"

Roland stopped in front of her, smoke puffing out of the intricately carved pipe in small clouds, his green eyes glinting with silent warning. She matched his gaze, and an entire conversation passed between them in silence.

"_You'd better watch your attitude, girl," _his eyes said. _"I mean what I said."_

And her eyes… Well, it didn't take a genius to translate her infuriated glare into a string of colorful derogatory terms directed at the man before her.

He smiled. "Ah yes, there it is; that spitfire that the customers seem to have a penchant for. Which is exactly the reason why I need you and Minnie to cater to the private party in booth six. And Téa…" He grabbed her chin and roughly forced her to meet his eyes, his pipe still smoking slow, lazy circles, even as he held her so brashly.

"Don't screw this up."

He released her, and she held her hand in place, refusing to touch the small ache on her chin. "The rest of you are waitresses tonight," called out Roland to everyone else. He clapped his hands. "Five more minutes, and then you're out on the floor."

He left the room, and just as soon as he was out of the door, everyone was bustling to get ready. Only Téa remained still, glaring down at the floor. Minnie, in the middle of putting on an earring, peeked down to see if her friend was okay, but she knew that she would be fine. Their boss was a big giant jerk, and didn't like the fact that the woman he hated paid so well.

"Don't think too much about it." Minnie nudged her with her hip, smiling. "He's just got a stick up his ass is all."

That drew out a laugh from Téa. "You always seem to know the best things to say."

"Of course! It's because I'm a self-proclaimed genius."

"Oh really?" questioned Téa as she put up her hair with a rhinestone clip. "Why have I never heard this before?"

"Well darling, I would have thought it would have been obvious."

"Aah…"

The girls burst into a fit of laughter, until it was cut short by Roland's irritated clapping. The girls stuck their tongues out in his general direction, and then linked arms, ready for work. Following the wave of girls, they entered Higgins, the gentlemen's lounge.

As soon as the dark lights covered their forms, and the cigar smoke filled their lungs, their seductive personalities took over. They were there to please and serve the wealthy and powerful, hopefully getting that big tip at the end of the night. Perhaps in Roland's eyes, they weren't anything more than cash cattle, but in the eyes of their customers, they were temptresses, giving them everything except what they really wanted. But that was part of the appeal, the teasing, the playfulness, the games. Accompanied with imported drinks, expensive cigars, and smooth jazz, Higgins offered an atmosphere that left all men who entered sated and satisfied without ever having to step across the line.

Téa could already hear the laughter of the men inside the private room they were assigned to. The alcohol was already flowing an hour early, which made their jobs a little bit tricky. It all depended on the customer, but one thing remained true: there was never an uneventful time.

"I'll take left, you right," whispered Téa, and then both entered the booth, giving their customers the best and brightest smiles.

* * *

"The life of a CEO isn't all that it's cracked up to be," explained the middle-aged man next to her in slurred tones. "It's actually quite hard."

"Really?" questioned Téa as she poured him another glass of wine, propping her elbow against the booth, resting her chin in her hand. "Tell me more."

"Well," he began slowly, his brow furrowing as he searched for the correct string of words. "It's… it's actually quite hard."

"Is it! Well, I hope that I'm helping you relax, even if it's just a little." Téa cast her face aside, holding a hand against her cheek, adopting a pain expression. "I… wouldn't want you to suffer…!"

The man dropped his wine glass- which she swiftly and discreetly recovered and placed back on the table- to comfort her, pulling her into a loving embrace, patting her head and assuring her that he was completely at ease. She whispered her thanks over and over, stealing a glance over at Minnie. Even through the thick smoke, she could tell her friend was having a difficult time suppressing her laughter. But then someone called to her, and she disappeared to tend to her half of the men.

"Another cigar?" offered Téa after the man pulled away, noticeably very reluctant to let her go, his hands sliding across her skin as they returned to his lap. He took one gratefully, and she struck a match against the heel of her shoe, lighting it for him. A finger tapped her shoulder, and she turned around, two other men with cigars in their mouths. She laughed and lit theirs too, settling back with a glass of water as an arm snaked around to rest across her shoulders. She made a note of the contact, but made no moves yet and instead drifted back into conversation with the men.

"So, what kind of interesting business are you handsome men in?" she questioned, making sure to throw in as many adjectives as possible. To cater to a man is to cater to their ego.

"Electronics," answered the man whose arms was around her shoulders. He was younger, perhaps in his late twenties, early thirties, but he had a small face and large ears and reminded her a bit of imp. "You want to see something that we make?"

"Sure."

"Here." His hand moved, sliding down her arm, and he pulled her closer to him. Alarms flared in her mind, but she remained silent as he pulled out a small handheld device. "See this? It may not look like much, but it allows worldwide video communication along with instantaneous access to live video feeds from nearly everywhere. Hopefully, with an upcoming partnership," he looked upwards, towards somewhere in the smoke, and waved, "we'll be able to use satellites, allowing for hassle-free communication _anywhere."_

"That's fascinating," commented Téa, even though it was not his dinky little gadget she was focused on, but his slowly lowering hand. As soon as it slid underneath her arm and rested on her hip, she was done. Standing swiftly, a plastic smile plastered across her face, she picked up the half empty wine bottle and moved to the door.

"Why don't I go and get us some more wine?" she suggested, her hand moving to the door.

"But- but we haven't even finished that bottle!" exclaimed the CEO.

"Oh, but this wine isn't good enough for respectable men like you. I know something better--"

"Wait a moment." The imp man stood up, removed the wine bottle from her hand, and moved her to a darker corner of the room. Instantly, his hand came out again, brushing against her side, and she moved, seamlessly shifting herself to look like she was going for the wall. She leaned against it, fanning herself.

"Oh dear, you men tire me. It's so hard for me to keep up." She looked up briefly to see if her words had any effect. The dark haze of lust in his eyes said otherwise, and she new immediately she was going to have a problem.

"Why don't we get out of here?" he murmured, taking a few steps closer to her. She had nowhere else to move, but she turned her face away, yawning, masking her repulsion as she smelled the alcohol and tar on his breath.

"Sir, I'm not sure if you know the rules, but we girls must stay here. Besides," she gestured to the other men, "what about your friends?"

A hand slammed against the wall next to her, the other fishing in his pockets. Even in the dim light, she could read very clearly what he proffered before her. He waved the five hundred dollar bill slightly, his lips quirking.

"I'll make it worth your while."

Téa suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. No matter how many times they were rejected, a large majority of men seemed to think that buying a woman was like purchasing a bundle of bananas at the store. Despite the women who did degrade themselves to that status, most women simply saw such an offer as an offence. Téa was no different, and it took all of her willpower to tear such an expensive piece of paper up right before his eyes.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said with the polite tone she adopted with every customer she had an extreme dislike for, "but we do not offer that here. If that is what you want, then I can suggest a few places that would gladly cater to your desires--"

The hand that was resting against the wall was suddenly slamming her into said wall, the other dropping the bill and reaching down to grasp her thigh through the long slit in her black dress. "Listen you," growled the imp man, pushing her into the wall again, "I will _not _be made a fool of. Do you hear me?"

Téa, in her slight fear, managed a quick glance behind him. Sure enough, more than a few pairs of eyes had sought them out and located them. She suppressed a smile; being turned down even after being offered five hundred wasn't 'catering to his ego' like a good hostess would do. But that was it, she was a hostess, not a hole to purchase.

She met eyes with the imp man, and then startled him silly when she practically slithered out of his grasp, bending and up righting herself like a flower in the wind, before she was walking back to the table.

"I'm sorry," she apologized to the other men who were staring at her, stunned, "I haven't been very polite. Why don't I go and get you that wine I offered? My treat!"

She felt before she heard the imp man approach her, and she dodged his grasping hand gracefully, twirling around and picking up the bottle along the way, stopping slowly and facing him, a twinkle in her eye. His face burned bright red, and she smiled at him delightfully.

"I'll be but a moment."

Most of the time, the battle would end there after the idiot man realized that there was more to her than met the eye. But for some reason- perhaps it was because his face was so small, or his ears were so big- the imp man was not prepared to let her go so easily.

So before Téa could leave without making a scene, the imp man pushed her into the limelight-- literally.

Téa went crashing into the table, the imp man much stronger than he looked. Wine glasses went crashing to the ground, cigars ruined as they soaked in spilt alcohol. The hands were back on her, and before she could catch her breath, she was being slammed into the door, a knee being wedged in between her thighs, hitting her painfully. He was holding up by the front of her dress, and she could hear the fragile stitching tear loudly.

"We're leaving," the imp man growled, "whether you like it or not."

To the men watching, it most likely prepared she was in a position where she could not argue. For Téa, she was going to give the dumbass three more seconds until her strategically placed knee would prevent him from ever procreating.

Unfortunately, she never got the chance.

"You are correct," said a voice from within the smoke. "We really must be leaving. The conference is early tomorrow, and I know I am going to need all the sleep I can get."

Whoever was speaking, it was clear he was the leader of the pack, for just as soon as he was finished, the other men were standing up, tucking in their shirts and adjusting their ties. Even the man holding her flinched, and giving her one last look, he cast her aside, letting her fall to the floor. He fixed his jacket and didn't once look back as he and the rest of the men left the room. Téa didn't bothered to look up and watch them leave. What mattered was that they were gone and she could pull herself together.

"Téa!" It was Minnie, and she was rushing forward, dropping to her knees next to her. "Oh damn, are you okay? Look at your dress, it's torn! Dat idiot, if I ever see him on da street, I'm gunna hit him so hard, he'll be singin' black an' blue blues all month long!"

"No Minnie, it's fine." Téa reached forward, grasped what was on the ground, and sat up, showing off the five hundred bill the imp man dropped. "It all worked out in the end."

Even Minnie briefly forgot herself when she saw the money, but she quickly shook sense into herself. "But Téa, he-!"

"Paid, although not in the most satisfying way." Téa straightened herself, hiking up her loosened dressed as high as it would go. It slid right back down, and she sighed, resulting to having to tuck it into her strapless bra to keep it in place. "It's just fine Minnie, you know this happens all the time," added Téa as she went around the room, collecting the scattered money amongst the mess.

"Well… yeah, but…" And the extent of her rebuttal ended there as she tended to the other side of the room.

The two girls cleaned in silence. Minnie, because she didn't know what to say, and Téa because for some odd reason, she couldn't help but think that there had been something familiar about that night. Not because of what happened, but perhaps one of the men…

_I could have _sworn _I heard one of those guys before…_

The questioned remained on her mind all the way up until she had to explain to Roland what had happened. He had been a syllable away from firing her until she gave Roland his share of the money she earned that night. Instead of being kicked out onto her ass, she got a kiss on the forehead and endearing words.

"Ah Téa, my little spitfire, you really know how to make a man happy!"

Téa wasn't at all enthused, especially since he took even more out of her cut due to the damage '_she' _caused. By the time everything was said and done, she made out just barely above what she normally made.

"Damn you Roland," she grumbled under her breath as she shoved her ruined dress into her bag. "Goddamn you…"

And so, she left the club, furious and frustrated, having forgotten all about the voice that had seemed so familiar. She even passed by the owner of said voice, but was so enveloped in her own hatred that she didn't even notice his passing glance.

A curious look filtered across his blue eyes, but just as soon as it appeared, it was gone, returning to the quiet of his mind where no one could see. Still, his thoughts remained on the girl even as the limo pulled up to the curb.

_Perhaps I shall give that fool a call… It might be entertaining._

"Mr. Kaiba, are you coming?"

Seto Kaiba looked up, nodded once, and then ducked into the limo, the end of his trench coat disappearing into the darkness of the limo and out of sight completely as the door closed. Soon, they were out of sight, driving even further into the heart of New York.

* * *

Téa kicked a plastic soda bottle out of her way, her eyes drawn down in her still furious glare. She watched it skip across the cement before knocking against the wall of a store, rolling slightly until it came to a stop. Suppressing the urge to kick it again, she walked on by, a humid wind blowing her hair behind her. She looked up and saw the bus stop, but before even thinking about stopping, she walked right on by, deciding to take the long way home. She wanted more time to berate herself because of her idiocy, ignoring how late it was, and how many strangers were on the street.

_Dammit Téa, what are you doing here? _whispered an angry voice in her head, the angry voice that had urged her to inflict harm upon an innocent piece of trash. _Is this what you want? Do you _like _being demeaned?_

"No!" she shouted at herself, startling a nearby homeless man into waking. "No, I don't!" She sighed, feeling the edges of her eyes begin to sting. "But… I don't have a choice."

"_You don't have to go!" pleaded the man, his face masked in shadow. "You can stay here with me. We can make this work…!"_

"_But… it's just not possible," replied her own quiet voice. "Not… with him."_

Téa near snarled at the memory, her fury returning. "That's why I can't go," she snapped to herself. "That's _exactly _the reason why I'm putting up with all this crap. I don't care if I have to deal with a _hundred _imp men; I refuse to let myself be beaten!" Spotting a crumpled up hamburger wrapper, she kicked it, too, but all it did was fly into the air and away, leaving her unsatisfied.

"Hmph." She was stomping down the hill, an odd sight as she was all by herself- save for the occasional passerby- far past midnight, bag swinging at her side like an unregistered weapon. It made her look silly, but also a tad bit insane, and any approaching thugs quickly turned on their heels and went to search for a different target.

Somehow, during her meaningless stomping, she took a different street. It was only until it was too late that she realized that she was in a completely different part of Chinatown.

Better yet, it was at the time Téa began to admit she was horribly lost that the sky decided to open up and unleash the pent up summer storms within it's cloudy belly.

The first drop hit her nose, and then on her shoulder. In a matter of seconds, it didn't matter where it rained because she was soaked. Slowly, she looked up at the sky, considered it for a moment, as if pondering to ask it why, and then flipped it the bird before trudging onwards, her curses muffled by the sound of the rain.

What few people were out were now gone, escaped into the safety of somewhere dry. Téa remained alone, dripping wet, but she didn't care. Wet was wet in her mind, and it certainly matched her mood. She decided it was the will of the gods that she be stormed upon.

"Still," she mumbled to herself, looking around, "I don't want to catch a cold…"

There were places that she could take shelter, like the occasional veranda or doorway, but the wind in the city liked to shift, and as soon as she got into one spot, she'd find herself with a face full of water. So, she continued on, and a few minutes later, she spotted a small store with a light in its window. Walking up to it, she wiped the water out of her eyes and read the sign hanging in the door.

"Occult Oddities." Beneath that was the sign she had been looking for: 'Open'.

Despite what the sign said, she was hesitant to open the door. One, just in case the alarm was triggered, and two because the shop seemed a bit old and out of date. If it _was _open, what kind of strange individual would be up so early in the morning?

Slowly, she opened the door, the hinges creaking slightly. "Hello?" she called out softly before stepping into the store. She shut the door behind her, and instantly a thick, almost warm silence fell around her, the kind of silence that's within libraries as the books themselves seem to absorb all forms of noise. Indeed, as she looked around with what little light she had- emanating from a small oil lamp in the window- there were many books everywhere lining the small shop, along with all sorts of odd trinkets. The air smelled of incense, but too many kinds to pick out which ones there were. She was able to name of jasmine and sandalwood before an out of place sound startled her out of her thoughts.

"What is a young lady like yourself doing in a place like this-- at one in the morning, no less?"

The voice was speaking in a whisper which made it difficult to describe or locate. Eventually, she found the source: a hooded figure sitting at a table in the back of the store. A melted candle flickered beside him, and in the middle of the table appeared to be a deck of cards.

"I-I'm sorry," stuttered out Téa, slowly beginning to realize what kind of an idiot she looked like at that moment. "It's just, I just got off work, and then I got lost, and then it started to rain, and--"

"Would you like a reading?"

Her words died on her tongue. "Wait… what?"

"A reading." He gestured, with a sweep of his hands, to the cards sitting before him. "With these, I can help you back onto the path you seek."

She looked down at the cards, up at him, and then back down at the cards. She pointed. "Those can show me which road I need to take to get back to my apartment?"

A whispered chuckle shook his shadowed form. He waved her forward. "Come here, so the cards may know to whom they will be speaking to."

It crossed Téa's mind briefly that perhaps what she was doing at that moment wasn't the safest of ideas. There she was, in the middle of the night, being beckoned forward by some mysterious figure she knew nothing about, not even their gender- although she was almost positive it was male. But, she was tired, wet, and beyond the point of caring, so she went to stand before him.

"I can't pay you, you know."

"First timers are free. Place your hand on the deck."

She looked down at her hand; it was still wet from the rain. Casting him a sheepish glance, she dried off her hand with what part of her shirt that was still dry, and then placed her palm gently atop the intricately painted cards.

"Now," instructed the whispery voice, "think of the question that haunts your mind. Let it not be something that can be answered with yes or no, but an actual question."

Téa wanted to say, "But an actual question can be answered with yes or no," but then she reminded herself that there wasn't another dry place around, and even if his cards couldn't help, she was sure he had to at least have a computer somewhere.

Téa was not completely ignorant to things in the realm of the occult. More than once she had her run-ins with the strange, dark magic, and almost all those times things had ended badly. However, she was in an unfamiliar place in an unfortunate circumstance, and as far as she could tell through her experiences, despite the usually ill things coupled with the occult, they usually ended with surprising results. One question wouldn't hurt, and it might even be a little interesting.

Then again, she had never asked for street directions.

_Okay… uh, Cards, _she addressed them mentally, feeling a bit awkward. _Um… I suppose my question is, how do I get home?_

She stared at the cards for what seemed like a long time, and then she slowly looked up, unsure of what to do. As if answering her, he slid the deck out from underneath her fingers. He gestured to the store. "You may stay here if you like, but I am sure you are curious as to what I have."

"Well… yes," she admitted. "But do I have to be here?"

"Only if you do not trust what I have to say."

Well, she didn't trust him; she _had _only just met him. But she didn't care to know anything about fortune telling or anything occult, so it didn't really matter if he told her a bunch of lies. She was trying to get _away _from that, and despite her small indulgence at that point, beyond that early morning she wasn't going to involve herself any further.

"No, no, go right ahead. I'll be listening." She flashed him a quick smile, and then she wandered around the store, feeding her curious inner cat as she began to inspect the spines of the books.

Underneath the man's hood, a smirk graced his lips. "Very well then." He was just about to move the top card, but then he stopped. There was a long pause, a pause Téa didn't notice, or didn't care about, as the man stared at his cards for a long time. Then, almost hesitantly, he too placed his hand atop the deck in the same manner as Téa. Another moment passed, and then he began to set up the reading.

He began to place the cards upon the table, the first two laying atop one another, facing opposite directions. Then, four more cards were added: one above, one below, one left, and one right. Four more cards were added, placed in a vertical line and to the right of the cross.

"The first card," he explained to Téa as she eyed a fragile glass fairy in a display case, "represents you and your present relationship to your current situation."

"Mmm," was all she offered to him to know she was listening, half wondering if Minnie would like a fairy.

The man paused, and if she could see his face, she would have seen an irritated scowl. Then, he turned over the card to reveal the Eight of Swords. The quietest of chuckles whispered through the air.

Téa really didn't care at first as to what the man said. That was until each and every one of his cards hit her proverbial nail right on the head.

"The Eight of Swords. You feel frustrated," he began, drawing her attention back to him. "You feel as if you are powerless and under the control of outside forces. You don't think you can adequately protect yourself. In short, you feel like you are a pawn."

_What does that have to do about me getting home?_

Her hand slid down the glass case, her mouth going slack. She took a step forward, but was interrupted by him speaking again as he turned over another card.

"The second card represent positive forces around you- forces you will or will not accept." He looked down at the card, and as soon as he read the delicately drawn title at the bottom, a heavy silence, heavier than before, fell across the room. It was so heavy, Téa thought he had just died.

"Sir?" She peeked around the corner. She saw the cards laying face down on the table, save two, and the man sitting before them, hands resting on either side of the table. She couldn't see him, but she knew without having to see his face that there was something wrong with him.

"Sir?"

The hood shifted, and she felt eyes upon her. There was a long pause, and then he started speaking so suddenly, Téa was startled back into hiding, forcing herself to look around the room as he continued her fortune.

"The Emperor. There is a man in your life," he whispered, his tone almost forced, as if he wanted to express himself in a different manner. "He is a strong leader, a man of power and responsibilities. He is courageous and wise, and," he added, each word gaining a harshness to them, "he has a sexual energy that you desire."

There was only one man in her life that had those qualities, but she refused to name him, refused to even give him a face. It was in the past, and any connections to _him _she was desperately trying to sever.

Clearing her throat, she picked up a random book and began to thumb through it. "Continue."

The man stared down at the card for a moment more, and then finally moved on. "This next card represents your goals and aspirations." He turned it. "The Ace of Wands. You wish to be self-reliant, to follow your own path. You have creative goals and dreams that you wish to be fulfilled. These ideas are far-reaching, and were most likely decisions made in an emotional moment." He considered the cards. "Your emperor is facing away from this card. Perhaps this man who is your positive in your life suppresses your dreams?"

"That is none of your business," Téa found herself snapping before it was too late. She clapped her hand over her mouth, her cheeks burning bright red as she heard his chuckle.

"Very well. Your next card represents your dreams, these being the dreams of your subconscious, your raw desires." Turning the card, he let the reversed card fall into place. The card was so out of place, a small grunt of surprise escaped him. Téa, having heard it, frowned.

"What?"

"Judgment, in a reversed position. It seems you have a guilty conscience. You wish to acknowledge your delusions and want to be told the rainbows you have been chasing are simply illusions. In short, you want to repent." He read the cards again. "The emperor is facing this card. Do you want to repent to him?"

Téa was smart enough to hold her tongue this time, but that did not stop her blood from boiling. The day she admitted she was wrong was the day she decided she would give up dancing forever. It was complete and total bull, and no stranger, no matter how eerily accurate his cards were, was going to make her think otherwise.

"Whatever. Just keep going."

"Is something wrong with my fortune?" he questioned, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"No- I mean, yes! Ah, I mean… Just keep going, okay?"

He chuckled. "As you wish. This next card represents past events and occurrences that have influenced your current situation; the Five of Cups, reversed."

Yet again, another pause, and she waited for what kind of response she would get. When she heard another chuckle, she prepared herself for a full argument, just shy of a complete five point powerpoint.

"This card is saying that you were in a relationship-- a relationship that was unsatisfying and unhappy. You felt bitter about being with this person, and regretted making the decision of unifying yourself in such a manner." A pause, and then the man asked readily, "Your love life is nothing sort of a disaster, isn't it?"

"Now wait a minute, buster!" Téa shoved the book she had been reading back into it's place and stormed over to the man, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'll have you know that the love life you are referring to is a love life that never existed in the first place. And just because it didn't exist doesn't make it a disaster, okay?" She about turned to end her argument there, but then she added with an accusing finger, "And what you said didn't have anything to do with the fortune at all!"

"It was a reflection upon the cards."

"It was useless commentary, that's what it was!" Huffing, she spun on her heel and went to a different section of the store, ignoring the shrunken head collection and moving onto the different kinds of incense. The man remained unfazed.

"Do you wish me to continue then?" he asked evenly.

Téa pulled out a stick, smelled it, dried her watering eyes from the bitter scent, and then shoved it back into its spot. "Yeah, whatever, go ahead," she grumbled.

"As you wish. This next card represents your relationships with other people." Turning over the card, he suppressed another backhanded comment. "The Tower. The picture depicts a once proud tower crumbling and disappearing into the crashing waves of the sea below. Just as it is in the picture, it is with the relationships with the people around you."

He waited for more commentary, but she remained silent. He wondered if she would remain like that, then silently hoped for it as he continued on.

"The next card represents your psychological state, the Moon--"

His hand paused, and again he stared at the card. He had addressed the cards as well more out of a joke than anything else, but yet again, a card he himself received from his own reading not minutes before the girl's arrival appeared once again, right along side the Emperor card.

_What nonsense is this? _the man wondered angrily. _What is it that you are trying to tell me?_

He remembered he was reading for someone else, and quickly filled in the silence with a hasty explanation. "The moon, despite it's nature, represents a state of delirium, however creative it may be. It represents dreams without foundation, and memories cast in shadows. As it is your psychological state, you yourself may feel your own memories may be unrecognizable or hard to remember-- although this is most likely your own doing."

"Hm," was all that he heard from her, so he moved on.

"This next card represents outside influences in your life, known or unknown."

The moment he flipped the card, he knew unquestionably the cards were speaking to him.

_The Hanged Man. _My _card._

The picture was a man who was hanging from what looked like to be some sort of bowl chandelier. His fingers were caught, and he was suspended in the air, his back to the viewer. It was clear through the desaturated colors and the lack of life in the picture that whatever the man had done, it had left him a shell of his former self.

_I am an outside influence… to _this _girl?_

Of course the moment he revealed the Emperor card his suspicions had been made true, and he would later had to have looked into it further, but with his card right in the thick of her reading, he knew that he was more than just an observer. He was an active part of her future-- whether he liked it or not.

"There's someone you know," he said aloud, just to fill in the thickening tension in the air, "who has gone through a lot. This man feels as if he is restrained, unable to seek what he has been after for so long. This man is known to look after himself and to work for his own gain, despite others naming it 'wrong.'"

"Hah."

His head turned up sharply. "What?"

"I know someone exactly like that, although I admit I haven't thought of him in a very long time…"

"Who?" he demanded, his voice almost slipping from it's disguising, hushed tones.

"It doesn't really matter," came her voice from the incense section. "He's long gone. But, you know, it's funny. Right before he left, he promised he would come back." She laughed. "Not like I _want _him back or anything, but he seemed… so _sure _that he would."

"I would not doubt him," warned the man with a harsh tone, the edges of his words carrying an almost dangerous quality to them. "If he makes a promise, it is one he is very likely to keep."

There was a pause. "Yeah," she sighed, although it was clear she didn't believe him, "I suppose." She yawned. "Go ahead, continue."

A sharp pain drew his attention to his hand. Without even realizing it, he had clenched his fist so tightly, his fingernails had dug into his skin, causing thick red drops of blood to see up through the crevices of his hands. With a curse, he tucked his hand into the folds of his long sleeve, hastily going through the rest of the reading. He was running out of patience; with the girl, and with the tarot cards.

"The next card are your hopes and fears." He flipped it over quickly, and he read it as her card. "You want to heal, to recover. You want to adapt in the world you have suddenly found yourself in. You want to move on."

"Don't we all?"

He ignored her. His goal was the final card, the card that would tell him everything he needed to know, the thing he needed to get from the girl that had stumbled into the shabby little shop he acquired, her presence there explained only through fate. Everything was screaming to him, telling him that _she has something, _and it was down to but a flip of a card…

The Ace of Pentacles.

_Treasure._

His eyes darted across the pictures of the cards, down at the Emperor. A smirk spread across his face.

_The _Pharaoh's _treasure._

A full minute passed, and still the man remained silent. Yet again, she drifted away from the different odds and ends she had been eyeing to find- yet again- the man lost in his own little world.

"Excuse me, but aren't you going to finish? Or--"

"Your fortune is done," whispered the man sharply. "Now leave my store. I must close up. I have been open for far too long."

Téa blinked. "So… that's it. That was my fortune."

"Yes," replied the man bluntly as he swept his cards into a velvet bag. "That was your fortune."

The girl watched the man pack up for a moment, and then she frowned in a near pout. "Well that was just stating the obvious. That wasn't a fortune at all! I could have opened up a fortune _cookie _and got more interesting results than that!"

"Out of my store," snapped the man angrily. "Now."

Téa gaped, unable to comprehend his words, as simple as they were. "Now wait a minute, it's still raining out there and I still don't have any clue as to where I'm supposed to go!"

"Not my problem." The man advanced on her. "Get out of here, before I have to force you out."

Being told that he was going to force her out just wanted to make her stay even more. "Excuse me, but did you hear the words that just came out of my mouth? I-don't-know-where-I-need-to-go!"

The man regarded her with an unseen expression, but the moment he started talking, she knew it had to be an angry one. "Don't know where to go, huh? Well why don't I show you the way!" He grabbed onto her arm and shoved her towards the door, opening it wide. A burst of wind brought in the rain, and Téa squeaked at the cold. With a firm push, she stumbled outside, the hooded man still within the store.

She spun around on her foot. "Wait a sec, I'm not through with you!"

But apparently he was through with her. As soon as she raised her fist at him in defiance, the door slammed shut in her face. To add insult to injury, the open sign flipped over to closed, promptly ending the battle right then and there, lest she step into illegal territory.

"God… dammit!" She kicked the brick wall, regretted it, and began to hobble down the sidewalk, starkly aware that she was back to _exactly _where she started, plus one throbbing big toe.

"Who does that guy think he is?" she fumed, taking a wild guess and turning down what appeared to be a sometimes used alley way. "Sitting in a creepy robe thing at one in the morning, waiting for all of those surprise 'fortunes' that he _must _get during such a _busy _hour!"

Excluding her, of course.

Still, the more she thought about it, the more familiar it seemed to her. She could have sworn that she had seen and felt something like that shop before, but as soon as she thought she could peg it, the answer flittered away, like a leaf caught in the wind. It was incredibly frustrating, and before long, she was so focused on trying to get an answer, she didn't realize she had stumbled her way back to the Bearded Dragon, her home.

_Whoever that guy is, I don't like him, _grumbled the voice in her head as she unlocked and opened the restaurant door. _Thank god I'll never see him again._

"Téa Gardner, do you know what time it is?"

The young woman nearly jumped a foot into the air as Chichi came bustling in from the kitchen, spoon in hand.

_Wait a minute…_

Painfully, as if trying to avoid the inevitable truth, she glanced over to a dragon clock on the wall. She nearly began to cry- where it not for the bone-crushing after effect of weariness- after realizing it was nearly four in the morning.

When she met eyes with Chichi again, she physically winced at how displeased the woman looked.

"I do not care; if you can find the energy to be out all night, then you can find the energy to be down here and serving the customers four hours from now." As promised, she handed Téa two white cartons of hot food. "Eat that, take a nap, and get your butt right back up. I think cleaning a few dishes might scrub some sense into that idiot box you call a head."

Like a young child being punished, she sulkily accepted the food. "Yes Chichi, ma'am," she mumbled before trudging up the stairs, her shoulders drooping with defeat. Behind her, Chichi clicked her tongue at her, shook her head, and went back to preparing the food for that day.

Téa knew that Chichi told her to take a nap, but if she fell asleep then, she'd never get back up, no matter how many times the older woman hit her on the head with her infamous spoon. So, she forced herself into her apartment, dropped her bag near the door, peeled off all of her clothes until she was down to her underclothes, and then threw herself on the futon in the living room, mindlessly tipping in rice into her hungry and eager mouth.

_I know I look like a slob right now, _slurred Téa's exhausted thoughts, _but I really just don't care. Anyways, I think I've earned the right to eat with my fingers tonight._

She was just about to shovel some chow mein into her mouth when she heard a small, meek meow come from outside. Sitting up, she smiled sympathetically at Max. Her Siamese cat friend, who was soaked through and through from the rain, was looking more like a drowned rat that a feline.

"Aw baby, did you get stuck in the rain, too?" She opened the window for him to come in, but he was even too cold to move. Quickly, she went into her room, got the towel she used earlier for yesterday's shower, and swiftly wrapped him up in it as if taking care of a baby. Shutting the window slightly with a bump of her hip, leaving it open enough to air out the humid room, she went back to the couch, cuddling the shivering creature in her arms.

"I guess we both had a bad day, huh?" she whispered to him. She picked out a small piece of meat from her chow mein and offered it to him. He sniffed it briefly, and then his tongue reached out, pulling the food into his mouth. He chewed loudly and she laughed, watching him struggle awkwardly as it fell out of the corner of his mouth and sat next to his cheek, just out of his reach.

The two sat together, eating chow mein and rice, watching basic TV, listening to the sound of the rain outside. Eventually, Max was warm enough to leave the towel, but just as soon as he jumped out, he jumped right back into Téa's lap. Smiling, she pulled a blanket off the back of the futon and wrapped it around them both. Warm and content, Téa relaxed, listening to the sounds of her friend's content purrs. There was something magical about the cat's presence, and somehow, sometime, Téa slowly began to drift off to sleep.

Just as soon as she reached the edges of the dream world, the feeling of Max's claws in her stomach tore her abruptly back into the waking world. She cursed loudly, pulling up her shirt to see matching paw print scratches, just as Max curled up next to the side of the futon, hissing loudly.

"What in the hell is wrong with you cat?" she demanded. Noticing the hissing, she looked around, but found nothing of interest. She stood up, blanket wrapped around her, and picked up Max. Clearly he was upset, with his pupils narrowed and his tail looking more like a frazzled duster, but as to why, she had no clue.

"What's wrong, Max?" she questioned worriedly, picking him up. "Is there something here?"

All Max did was hiss, and finally she realized what he was hissing at: the door.

Slowly, she put him down- where he quickly moved back to his previous position against the couch, a low, warning mewl coming deep within his throat. Pulling her blanket tighter around her, she went over to the door, pausing at the doorknob. Then, as quickly as she could, she swung the door wide open, expecting to see some sort of offending animal.

She saw a pair of black shoes.

Following those shoes, she saw a pair of black pants- wet at the ends- and the edges of a coat- also black. A grey shirt….

And gold.

All at once, she knew who the man in the hooded cloak had been.

Her heart froze, ceasing all beating. A cold, sickening feeling washed over her, leaving her feeling nauseous and weak. Above it all was a screaming voice inside her spiraling thoughts, telling her run, back away, go out the window, down the fire escape, anywhere but here, in front of _him-!_

And still, her unblinking eyes moved upwards, falling upon a pale, handsome, evil face, with dark, seductive, dangerous brown eyes.

His Millennium Ring glistened slightly even in the low light with it's own unnatural powers. Thin lips quirked into a smile, and his head tilted slightly as he propped himself up against the doorframe, his arms crossed, water ringlets dripping from his unnaturally white hair.

"Well," he said after a moment, his deep, deadly tones caressing her shivering flesh. "It's been a long time, Téa."

Hearing her name fall from his lips was like being dealt a physical blow. She stumbled back, once, twice, and then she fell to the ground, her eyes unable to tear themselves away from the radiating power above her. One word came from her with a tremble, and as she said it, his cocky smirk turned into a wicked grin.

"Bakura."

* * *

A/N:

Ahahah, and the real story begins. Expect almost all chapters to be this length. Oh dear, will I ever get sleep? ….Nah. Sleep's overrated. Tah-tah!

But before you go… I am by no means a review junkie, but I do love/appreciate feedback, especially early on. It helps me to figure out what exactly I need to tweak before I decide to post. Which is why I am refraining from putting up chapter three. So, any questions/comments/suggestions you might have, I would _love _to hear them. Quality over quantity, my friends!


	3. The Breakdown

A/N: Warning. This story has taken a darker turn.

* * *

**_Chapter Three:_**

**The Breakdown**

* * *

It had been many years since she had experienced the near-blinding fear that was sparking through her body at that very moment. Unable to do more than shiver, she struggled to take in air as the evil spirit took a step forward into her apartment, rain water trailing off his coat and hitting the carpeted floor. Above her, Bakura was looking around, surveying the apartment with a critical eye. He smirked, raising an eyebrow at her in silent question. She made no move to respond, so he simply shrugged and began looking around again, this time with clear distaste.

"Even for you this is a disappointment. In your little life speeches, did you forget to include yourself?" His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked her over. "In your underwear… smelling like a wet cat… how revolting."

Somewhere within the bone-chilling fright that was threatening to consume her, a hot spark of indignant fury broke through the dark haze. Beside her, she heard Max let out an angry hiss, further drawing her to the present.

Bakura was in her home, degrading her, taking all that she had worked so hard on obtaining and turning it into something less than worthy. It was the highest of insults, like a direct slap in her face, and the fear disappeared completely. All that was left was her quickly burning hatred. Clothing or no, she stood up, wrapped the blanket around her, and fixed him with the angriest scowl she could muster.

"Why are you here?" demanded Téa in a shaking whisper, adrenaline rushing through her body. "What do you want?"

On his own time, he ignored her for the first few moments, staring disdainfully at the hissing creature backed up against the futon. "I happened to be in the neighborhood," he answered suddenly, swinging his gaze back up to hers, his poisonous lips stretched in a feral smile. "I decided that perhaps you'd like a bit of company. Although…" He yawned, regarding the apartment with a blasé expression. "This was a complete letdown. I had hoped that perhaps your life would have been a _little _more interesting, what with you having spouted all that nonsense about dreams and so forth all those years ago."

"Things change," she replied sharply, venom laced in every syllable. She marched forward, going so far as to poke him in the shoulder, her bright eyes burning in his irritated brown ones. "And now, you leave. Get out of my apartment."

Bakura swatted her hand away, his eyes drawn down in an unflinching scowl. "How rude," he growled out, "even after I traveled so far just to see you, little Téa."

"Five blocks away isn't 'far'," sassed Téa, a sarcastic smirk marring her pretty face.

That drew a reaction from him. His eyebrows arched slightly- but only slightly before they narrowed back down, amusement flashing in his eyes. He shook a finger at her, chuckling. "Ah Téa, I really shouldn't underestimate you, no matter how easy it is."

"Out." She pointed to the door. "Now."

He watched her, silence falling over them, save for the still hissing cat. She remained stock still, her resolve unwavering, her command unshakable. At least, in the face of any other opponent. But Bakura wasn't 'any other' anything; he was _Bakura, _and when met with a challenge, he always did the same thing: presented his own.

"I don't think so." He dismissed her casually, walking right past her as if swatting away an irritating fly. "I think I'll make myself right at home." Ignoring the cat as it bolted away, disappearing into a hallway, he threw his wet jacket on the floor, kicked off his boots, and fell into the futon, swinging his feet up onto the old coffee table and crossing them, relaxing back into his arms. He let out a long, content sigh before looking back at her. He smirked.

"Try to move me," he said audaciously, a wicked grin on his face. "I _dare_ you."

Téa, stunned, remained poised before the door, her thought process suddenly grinding to an abrupt halt, the blatant disregard for her command driving a giant wedge into any sense that still remained after his shocking arrival. Turning slowly, like a rusted machine, she stared at him with wide eyes, the kind of expression that occurred when one was so angry, so absolutely _ticked, _there was no physical representation of any kind that could properly convey one's feelings.

"Wh… H… You…!"

Bakura was picking up one of the takeout boxes, shaking it around as he looked at it's contents. He sniffed. "I've had better," he commented backhandedly before tipping the contents into his mouth.

Oddly enough, that snapped Téa out of her reverie.

"That's _my _food!"

"Not anymore."

At her wit's end, she couldn't think of anything else to do except the one thing she wanted to avoid all together, but he wasn't giving her any choice. "That's it." She stomped over to the kitchen, picking up the phone and beginning to dial. "I'm calling the cops--"

She would never understand how he moved how he did, which was completely reasonable. The things he did- his actions, his thoughts, the things he said- were all locked away in a separate realm far different than the one she lived in. So when he suddenly appeared beside her, disconnected phone cord in his hand, the only thought that passed through her head was, _I wish I could do that…_

"Téa," chided Bakura, slowly removing the phone from her slack hand, "do you really want to call the police? Honestly…" He stretched the spiraled cord out, wrapping it around his hands. "I thought you were smarter than that." He snapped it taut, his eyes flashing dangerously. "You _are _a smart girl, aren't you?"

She eyed the telephone cord hesitantly, taking a step back. "You don't scare me," she whispered, even though she found herself unable to take her eyes away from something she once thought of as harmless. Leave it to Bakura to ruin something so mundane.

He laughed, and her eyes jerked upward. "You're very entertaining. It shows how little you know about me." He leaned forward, so far forward that she herself had to lean back, bending awkwardly over the kitchen counter until she toppled backwards, his shadow covering her as both of his hands rested on either side of her. His long white mane tumbled down around them, the edges of his hair tickling against her exposed neck.

"Dearest Téa," he mocked in the kindest tone possible, his hot breath caressing her flushed face, "I hope to change that lack of knowledge." His smirk grew toothier. "We are going to have a _grand_ old time."

There was something frighteningly hypnotizing about his voice, like dark crushed velvet sliding across her skin, wrapping around her and drawing her forward. Nauseous and revolted, she pushed him away, holding a hand to her forehead. She was starting to break out in a cold sweat, her hands becoming clammy. She had encountered dark magic before, but the aura that Bakura gave off was on a completely different level. His was uncomfortable and frightening because it was so otherworldly. Holding a hand to her heart, she swallowed as she felt her irregular heartbeat.

_Dammit… How does he do that?_

Apparently, the thief knew of the kind of effects his voice could have. He was smirking at her knowingly, the hints of cruel laughter glinting in his eyes. Then, he turned away, and Téa immediately took in a steady breath, trying to calm her frazzled nerves. He spoke to her as he went back over to the phone, plugging it back in.

"I'm glad we have reached a consensus, Téa," he said, turning back around only to head directly to the fridge. He opened it, peering inside. "I will not be here too long- there is only so much time I will spend in a dump like this." He shut the fridge door, opening the last soda she had. He smirked at her over the rim of his drink. "But I'm sure what little time we do share together shall be… interesting, to say in the least."

Téa watched everything with a cold, steely expression. There was no fighting the man before her. It was a battle she would never be able to win. She could still hate him, though.

"Fine," she spat out, hatred and disgust filling every word. "You can stay here a few days-- two, tops."

In mid drink, his eyebrows shot up, and then he pulled away, laughing. "Oh Téa," he snickered through nasty laughter, "it's so cute, the way you think you have any say in the matter." He walked right on by, shaking his head in disbelief. "So naive-- almost stupid, in fact."

She bit her tongue from saying anything that could end in her dismemberment, but it was so hard. She hated him so much, and she had every right to. He had betrayed her friends, betrayed _her; _he had used her, took control of her and… and _raped _her mind. She had felt so scared, so lost, so unaware of who or even what she was…

But she had always known he would come back. Always.

She just didn't think it was going to be to _her._

"Don't steal anything," she bit out spitefully before turning on her heel and heading into her room- slamming the door shut and locking it soundly.

Bakura smirked at her anger. She really was amusing, but only then. It was only a matter of time before amusement would turn into frustration, and frustration into anger, and anger to… It all depended on what kind of treasure 'Innocent Little Téa' was hiding.

He had followed Téa to her apartment successfully. For a short while, he thought that she had actually and in all reality gotten herself severely lost. Most of the time she was so enveloped in her thoughts that he wasn't sure that following her was going to do any good at all and would have forced him to turn to modern day conveniences to try and locate her address. Eventually however, by some guiding hands or perhaps a string of luck, she managed to make it back to her house. To his surprise, she lived above an oriental restaurant, which was in the oddest of locations. Why have one there in the middle of Chinatown? Why not somewhere where it could be a unique convenience? But that was a simple thought for another time, so he had waited outside, listening just outside the door to the conversation that had unfolded within.

He smirked when he listened to the girl being reprimanded in sharp Japanese. Even better, she was taking each and every bit of it like a shamed child would. Then Chichi- at least, that was what Téa called her- went back into the kitchen, and Téa went up the stairs.

_So, _he had thought, considering the situation, _there is going to be a bit of a problem with that old hag. _He was going to have to deal with her-- one way, or another.

He settled against the wall of the restaurant, waiting. He did not want to walk in suspiciously right behind Tea. Bored within the first few minutes, he decided to do a bit of scouting. Going back out into the rain, he walked around the perimeter of the building. There were two skinny alleyways on both sides, each of them relatively cleared compared to most other side streets. He took the left side, encountering a dumpster, a door leading to what he suspected was the kitchen, and a fire escape. Peering upward, he saw that there were six levels to the building, although most of them were clearly out of use, some of the windows broken or boarded up. On the third floor however, there was a small light, the kind of light that comes from a television. Wiping the water out of his eyes, he went over to the fire escape, tested it, and prepared to climb up.

_No._

He stopped. It was too easy. There wasn't any challenge to it at all, none whatsoever. Sure, it would have been fun to see her reaction as he waltzed right in through her window, but he wasn't going to do it all the time. He had more respect and honor for himself than to be sneaking around like a rat constantly. So, with a sigh, he let go of the ladder and went back to the front door.

He finally entered the restaurant about an hour later. Any thoughts of sneaking up the stairs unnoticed flew right out the door, for the moment his feet touched the gaudy red and gold carpet, Chichi burst through the door, swinging a wooden spoon in her hand as if it was the last one on the planet.

"What did I tell you, girl-- oh." The old woman dropped her hands, regarding him curiously for the briefest moment, and then she eyed him suspiciously, switching from Japanese to English. "What's a young man like yourself doing in a place like this so early?"

"Well, I--"

"You wouldn't happen to want a bit of soup and tea, would you?" She asked it in the most hospitable, delightful voice, which immediately led Bakura to believe that the old woman was much more cunning than she let on. "But if you do," she said, and then her face fell, and she looked at him, hand outstretched, her tone purely business. "It's going to cost you." She flexed her fingers back, as if beckoning for his money to come dancing out of his pockets.

More to her indeed. "No," he dismissed her immediately. She snorted and turned back around, but he stopped her. "But I am here to see Téa, my…" He grasped for an answer, any answer. "Cousin."

At the mention of her name, the woman stopped mid step. And then, far too fast for her short stature, she was upon him, staring up at him with inky black eyes, a frown on her wrinkled face. "Is that so?" she questioned suspiciously.

"Yes," he replied shortly in Japanese to prove his point, not at all intimidated by this woman. In fact, he leaned down over her, his eyes narrowing, the shadow of his form engulfing hers. He spoke slowly, accentuating each and every letter. "It is, in fact, so." He stared at her for a moment, and then, he saw it- that small spark of fear that he loved so much. Cocking his head slightly, he smiled briefly before pulling back and heading up the stairs.

"I-I'm watching you!" Chichi warned, and he could hear the whistling of her spoon behind him as it swished through the air. "I don't care who you are; I'll beat you down quicker than you can blink!"

He ignored her empty jibe, going up the stairs and reaching a small hallway. It was another part of the restaurant, most likely set up for private parties. It clearly hadn't been used in a long time- perhaps not ever- for it was also being used as a storage room, combined with a work bench. A couch missing it's cushions was pushed to the back, and a vacuum was on it's side, springs and coils littered beneath it.

The third floor was simple, a small hallway, a door in the middle of the left wall, and an obnoxious floor mat out front, a cartoon cat waving, saying, "Welcome!" in bold, bright letters.

_Some things do not change, _he thought to himself, but he decided to look at the three other levels first.

The doors were locked, but that didn't stop him. With a makeshift lock pick- a nail- he managed to get the doors unlocked. His efforts however went wasted, as there was absolutely nothing on any of the levels accept for the random bits of garbage, the occasional rat droppings, and a drifting odor that reminded him of mold.

"Disgusting," he mumbled to himself, locking up on the way back. "What kind of place is this girl living in?"

It was a dump. It was a disaster. It was just as the cards had foretold.

And so, when Téa had opened the door and he stepped inside, the feeling of something amiss, something out of place, something _substantial, _was not a surprise. It merely instilled a confidence inside of him and a resolve that said he was not to be moved, not until he discovered the source.

"But what could it be?" he murmured to himself as he sat on the couch, arms crossed before him, face drawn down in thoughtful scowl. "Clearly the Pharaoh's hand is at play here, but what could he have possibly done that had left such a simple girl with a divine treasure?"

Or, perhaps he was over thinking things. Yes, the Ace of Pentacles represented treasure, but with a reading that was so emotional and dark, there was a chance that the treasure was not tangible, but spiritual in it's existence. If that was the case, then there was a possibility he was searching for something that would benefit him very little-- but then again, the Hanged Man made itself very clear. He was supposed to be there, supposed to get that treasure, whatever it was.

_Real or not, whatever that girl has, I require it. _His readings never lied. But to get it, her fortune would have to come true. The darkness he had read would have to remain as it was. If he wanted the end that the cards predicted--

"I must extinguish her light."

The cat hissed at him loudly, the hair on it's back standing straight up into the air. Bakura frowned; he disliked cats. He disliked them very, very much, and no amount of time would change that. With a snarl, he hissed at the creature with bitter contempt. The cat screeched and leapt out of the open window, bee lining up the stairs and disappearing, the end of his gray tail the last thing he saw. Bakura, a satisfied smirk on his face, leaned back into the couch, picked up a box of rice, and began to eat, watching the early morning nonsense on the beaten up television.

* * *

Within the dark bedroom of the apartment, Téa lay atop her bedspread, her hair splayed out behind her, her bright blue eyes now dark and drawn down into a frightened expression. Grey was under her eyes, and every time she blinked, she did so slowly, as if wanting them to remained closed. But she couldn't. Not with him in the house.

"I don't get it," she whispered to herself finally after sitting in silence for half an hour, "why in the world is he here?"

Perhaps it had to do with her tarot reading? But what in the world could it had said that would compel him to track her down and cause her so much distress?

"No," she spat angrily, "he doesn't need a reason. He's _Bakura."_

And he had been Bakura for a very long time. His other half- the _true _half, Ryou- hadn't made a single appearance during their last year of high school. At least, during what time he was actually there. Most of the time Bakura simply showed up to show up, reminding people that he was still there, still dangerous. Most of the time however, he was there to cause trouble- _especially _with her and her friends.

_What in the world could have happened to Ryou? _wondered Téa. _Surely the spirit hasn't engulfed him… right?_

But Ryou was such a sweet boy, and so gentle, so kind. Then, there was the spirit, Bakura, who resided within the Millennium Ring. To have that burden upon one's shoulders, every single day having to deal with such a dark, dark being… Thinking about it made Téa fear for the British boy, a boy she hadn't thought of for so long without having to spit out his name with distaste. Guilt filled her heart, and she turned her face into the pillow, trying to smother the ugly feeling.

"Well," she mumbled into her pillow, turning her face back around so she could properly breathe, "in any case, there isn't anything I can do about Bakura now." Even if he hadn't displayed such an intimidating act with her phone, who could she call who would even believe her? And if they did end up believing her, who could stop someone with the power of darkness at their disposal?

_Only one person, _she thought as she turned on her side, _and he is not to be discussed. _

Her eyes fell on her closet. She stared for a moment, and then she turned back around.

"Not to be discussed."

Eventually, due to sheer exhaustion, she fell asleep.

* * *

When she opened her eyes and read 7:50 on her clock, it took until 7:52 to realize she was going to be late for work with Chichi.

"Oh dear lord!" she exclaimed, jumping out of bed. Stumbling over junk and trash and dirty clothes, she practically fell onto the door knob and jerked open her door-- or, at least tried. It was locked, for some strange reason. Unlocking it, she successfully opened the door, and then she rushed right into the bathroom. Not bothering to wait for the hot water, she leapt directly in, cursing as the cold water hit her sensitive skin. At least a little more awake, she hastily washed her hair and body, shut off the water, and then scrambled for a towel-- a towel that was still in her room.

Crying out loud, she rushed- very nakedly- back into her room, grabbed the towel she didn't use on Max, and hastily dried off, dressing herself in the process.

_This is ridiculous! _her thoughts complained as she pulled up her wet hair into a sloppy bun. _First, I have a bad day at work. Then, I get lost. Finally, I dream about that godforsaken--_

Bakura.

Her whole body went cold. Freezing, it took her a moment to collect her thoughts and her bravery. Slowly, she peered around the corner of her door into the living room.

No shoes. No coat. No presence of him at all. It had all been a dream, just as she thought it was.

Feeling a little better, she shoved her feet into a pair of sneakers, double-checked to see if everything was off, and then she rushed out of the door, feet beating against the stairs as she rushed to work, the seconds ticking off in her mind, almost there, just a few more….!

"Téa!"

She nearly tripped and slammed her face into the stairs, Chichi suddenly appearing before her. Or, she had already been there, and it was Téa's blind fear that caused her to not notice her presence. Righting herself clumsily, she blinked, Chichi's eyes boring into hers.

"Téa Gardner," growled out Chichi, smacking her spoon against one hand warningly, "you are two minutes late."

"Wh-what? No, I can't be! I--" Téa pointed back behind her frantically. "My clock, and the shower- and- and no towel, and-- I was running, Chichi, honestly, and then he--!"

Chichi pointed sharply with her spoon downstairs. "Apron. Now. You have a customer waiting!"

Any feeble attempts to explain her actions died on her lips, like a boiling pot losing it's bubble. Her finger dropped, and her shoulders sagged. She hung her head, defeated. Chichi's spoon was law, and the law said, Téa-Is-Late-Do-Not-Pass-Go. And her two hundred dollar paycheck was not going to be collected.

"Get a move on!" snapped Chichi, already toddling back down the stairs. "Your cousin isn't going to wait forever!"

Her head snapped up. _Wait a minute-- cousin?_

Téa didn't have any cousins. And even if she did, there was no way that any of them would know where to find her. So then, who could it…?

_No…_

Her head fell back, an agonized groan coming from her, Chichi staring at her as if she had sprouted a pair of horns and matching hooves. "Nnnooo…." She stopped her foot childishly. "No, this isn't fair, out of all the things, _no!"_

But she had a job to do, and she had obligations to attend to. So, with a sulking disposition, she went down the stairs and didn't even spare a passing glance at Bakura, sitting in a table on the other side of the room, as she walked into the kitchen.

Bakura smiled into his cup of tea. It was going to be a _fun_ day.

* * *

Téa knew that the day was going to be the worst day of her life. There was no denying it, so she accepted it, embraced it. At least she would already know the worst of the worst, and it couldn't get any lower-- at least, she hoped.

The first mark of the worst day of her life was the look Chichi was giving her an hour later as Téa stacked some orders onto her arms.

"Téa," interrupted Chichi suddenly, startling Téa out of her concentration as she prepared to stack a sixth plate onto her already large burden.

"Oh, sorry Chichi. I just thought that I'd be able to handle it--"

"That man is not your cousin, is he?"

Téa's mouth went sour at the mention of the thief spirit. "No, he isn't," she said curtly as she headed to the door.

"Then who is he?"

She stopped again. Chichi wasn't going to let her leave without a proper answer.

"He's… It's really complicated Chichi. But we go way back." She went quiet, slowly pushing through the doors. "Way, _way _back…"

Chichi, watching Téa leave, clicked her tongue against her cheek, stirring a pot of soup slowly. "Watch yourself, Téa," she warned lowly, a hint of concern wrinkling her face even more. "He gives off dark vibes."

The restaurant was occupied by the few regulars that the Bearded Dragon had. Téa, on the serving floor, made sure to serve everyone else first before she slowly made her way back in Bakura's direction. When she reached his table, he didn't even look up, his eyes focused on the newspaper she had fetched for him. She even cleared her throat, but still gained no response.

"Fine," she growled, dropping a bowl of rice before him, "whatever. _Don't _talk to me. I prefer it that way." She spun on the ball of her heel, turned up her nose, and walked away.

"Do you always treat your customers with so little respect?"

She turned back around, hatred burning in her irises. Marching back to him, she put a hand on the table, fixing him with a beautiful, deadly smile. "_Sir_," she sounded out rudely, "the only time I'm nice to someone is when I'm _paid _to be nice. And you…" She pointed at him, as if gesturing to a pile of rotting garbage. "Well, you would have to pay a _lot."_

Téa did not bother once to consider the consequences of her words before she went back into the kitchen, doors swinging behind her. Bakura, eyes off his paper, was slowly beginning to smirk, a glimmer of surprise dancing in his eyes. Then, he sipped his tea and returned to his paper.

Téa worked until two, and then she got off to complete a few chores around the city. She had been looking forward to the time alone, that was until Bakura neatly folded up his newspaper, paid his bill, and walked right out behind her, his hands in his pockets as if joining her for a casual stroll.

"What are you doing?" she growled at him, forcing her eyes to stay focused before her on the crowded sidewalk.

"I'm following you," was his curt reply, giving her a belittling look.

"I'm not an idiot, I know you're following me!"

"Then why did you ask?"

"I don't-- I didn't say you could!" She shot him a dirty look. "Go back home!"

Just to insult her, he quickened his pace until he was walking right along beside her. He smirked down nastily at her. "Oh Téa, I'm so happy you think of me as a part of your home." He rolled his eyes away from her. "Although I must decline your offer. Your lifestyle is too… unsatisfactory."

Téa's eye twitched, and she took a step away from him, clasping her purse close next to her, grasping it with a white-knuckled ferocity. The way he so casually insulted her with such grace was almost a gift. An ugly, unwelcome gift that was testing her well-tempered patience to it's limits.

_Why am I bothering with this… this _ass? She already knew the answer however; she bothered with him because if she didn't entertain his sudden and inexplicable desire to drop by and drive her insane with his obscene rudeness, the dark and dangerous part of him that always lingered might lash out, and she would be no more.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He was eyeing the world around him, constantly vigilant, always wondering who would be the next sucker to come stumbling into the traps around him. At least, that's what she safely assumed was going through his head. The glint in his expression, the way his eyes would dart when a traveling salesman's cart would travel by, laden with golden trinkets; how he would gently brush past someone, and his hand would shift slightly in his pockets unflinchingly; they were all characteristics of a thief beyond from just being a pickpocket. He had a dark shadow, a deadly shadow, and she feared him deeply.

_Maybe… I'm in over my head. _

It was the first time she seriously began to question her situation. Back in high school, she hadn't been able to defend herself against his attack. She had been consumed in his darkness, drowning in his shadows. It had taken the help of her companions to draw her out.

Now, she was on her own, in every sense of the word. And Bakura seemed more intent than ever to turn his tunnel vision upon her. As his target, his prey, did she stand a chance against him?

Her doubts hit a mental wall-- hard. She scowled deeply at herself. Where had her confidence gone? Where was that I-can-make-it-on-my-own attitude? She didn't need anyone else because she had _herself. She _would make it happen, make her future happen, and if that meant dealing with a white-haired roadblock, then so be it. Besides, she had learned a lot from her time alone in the States. She fought her own battles, dealt with her own problems, and more than once danced right out of them with as much grace as she did going in.

Bakura was just another challenge, another test that she would have to overcome in order to prove her worthiness to stay on her own. And even though he was making it hard, she would get past his cruelty and boot him out right onto his butt.

_I'll show you! _her thoughts shouted angrily. _I'll show everyone!_

Although she sounded confident- and she was, at the time- it was, after all, the worst day of her life. As the worst day of her life, the world was going out of it's way to prove to Téa just how wrong she was.

* * *

Every. Single. Store.

Every single store- from the post office, the grocery store, the pharmacy- Bakura was able to come up with colorful combinations of insults and snide comments that drilled into her like rusty screws. There was no pattern to them, or any certain act that she would commit that would bring them on. He would just start talking as she was in the middle of a task, his mocking tones making her teeth grind. It was as if his entire existence was just to drive her insane with rage until she snapped.

In the blandest analogy possible, he a horsefly, biting at her neck, escaping just before she moved to slap him away.

She imagined a fly, complete with a Bakura head, and then felt mental satisfaction as she watched her imagination pummel him to death with an assortment of fly swatters. Her eyes became lidded, a deliriously happy smile fading slowly onto her face. She listened to his small squeaks as she mercilessly beat him over and over until he was a smear on a table.

Fingers snapping in her ear pulled her out of daydream so violently, she dropped the bag of pills she got from the pharmacist. Before she could pick them up, his hand was in the way, snatching them up just as her fingers brushed across the white paper. He didn't even bother to spare a second glance as he began to walk away, opening the white bag.

Téa's face flamed bright red. "G-Give those back!" she demanded, reaching for the pills. He held her back with one hand on her forehead as she swung to reach him, his eyes moving as he the description on the package. Then, he turned to her, cruel amusement stretching his lips into a toothy smirk. He chuckled low, and her face turned flat crimson as she snatched the pills from his proffered hand.

"Little Téa, taking birth control?" His chuckle grew deeper. "Now why on earth would she-"

"I'm not little, and stop talking as if I'm not here." She shoved the medication deep within her purse, shooting him a nasty glare. "And it's none of your business."

"Really?" he questioned, and then he was holding the package back in front of his face, reading the description. Téa's eyes flew wide, and she grabbed her purse, pulling it wide open, staring down at the empty spot where the pills once rested. "Well I think it is my business."

"How'd you-?" She growled with frustration and held out her hand before her, incensed. "Give them back."

Whatever he read, it wasn't very interesting, so he tossed them back in her general direction. Why they were there, however, was a question he was still entertaining delightfully. "So, you've been getting around, have you?" He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slyly. "Company who can _pay, _hm?"

"Shut up," she snapped at him, "you have no idea what you're talking about." She stormed out of the pharmacy's parking lot. She spotted the bus, and she felt a glimmer of hope. She ran to the bus stop just as it slowed down to pick up a few passengers. Looking back behind, she frowned when she came face to face with Bakura. His eyebrow quirked slightly; an expression of irritancy.

"You really didn't think you'd get away so easily?" he questioned as they stepped onto the bus. She paid her fare, and then watched him pull out his wallet-- or rather, _a _wallet, a leopard-printed thing that clearly wasn't his. He caught her eyes, and then, just to irk her, waved the wallet at her as if displaying a trophy, and then he slipped it into his pocket.

She rolled her eyes at him, and then she turned around to find a seat near the front. Once again, she was dealt the wrong hand, and Bakura took a seat next to her, a seat that was conveniently vacated by a mumbling hobo who got off at their stop. So, ankles crossed, arms holding her purse to her chest, Téa turned away from Bakura, preparing to ignore him the entire ten minutes it would take to get back to her apartment.

He, however, had other ideas.

"So," he said after a few minutes, "how many men do you see on average?"

Her eyes widened with embarrassment. A few curious eyes turned in their direction, and more than a few snickers filtered through the air. She turned to him, hissing, "What do you think you're doing?!"

"That really is becoming to be a very tedious question," he yawned. He propped his arms up on the seat and leaned his head back, his eyes filled with extreme boredom. "So, what? One hundred a pop?" He scratched his chin. "Or is it two?"

"Shut it," she growled, forcing her eyes to the window.

"Do you charge extra for special circumstances? Maybe more for a little…" He swiped his tongue across his teeth, making an obscene gesture with his hand. "If so, I might know a few guys who would just _love _to meet you." He fixed her with an absurdly serious look. "But for these guys, you would have to be _very_ good at fu--"

"_Shut up!"_

Now the whole front of the bus was focused on them, if not on the obscene conversation, but at the peculiar man and the odd necklace around his neck. The whisperings were getting louder, fingers pointing. Téa, on the verge of screaming, reached out and grasped his shoulder, squeezing it with the tips of her nails, her reddening eyes narrowing in smoldering fury.

"Why are you doing this?" she demanded in a whisper. "What the _hell _did I ever do to you?"

His eyes drifted over to her hand, and then, like lightning, her wrist was in his grasp, his hand tightening with every passing second. She gasped in pain, but he silenced her with a warning look. From anyone else, it would look like two lovers holding hands, and he was leaning in for a kiss… But his words clashed with his expression, and an ugly, sick tone fell from his pale lips, his hot breath filling her ear.

"When do I ever need a reason to do anything?" he murmured to her. "Hm?" He waited for a response, but she could not form one. She was too busy trying to concentrate on her shortening breath, her fingers going numb.

She listened to her heartbeat, wishing that he would pull away, and then she choked when his mouth brushed slightly against her ear, a chuckle reverberating through his throat. "It would be best that you just… gave in. For all parties involved." She felt him turn his head slightly. "Don't you think?"

She swallowed heavily, bile rising up into her throat. This was… too familiar. This was _dangerous, _and if she didn't assert herself then, then the velvety words he was whispering in her ear would slowly slip inside, draping themselves across her mind, slowly making her sink back into the darkness…

"Seventh!"

The bus dinged, and then came to a stop, the airlocks releasing. Téa came back to herself, blinking rapidly. Swiftly, she turned her eyes to Bakura. He was frowning at the driver, the barest hint of a snarl coming from him. Taking her chance, she tore her wrist from his careless grasp so violently, it startled even him. Ignoring the tingling in her palm, or the way her wrist burned, she adjusted her purse on her shoulder, shot him a cold glare, and then turned around and got off the bus, not caring one way or another as to what he did.

Bakura got off and followed right behind her as she stormed into the Bearded Dragon. Chichi, having heard the door slam open, came out of the kitchen, her ever present spoon swinging in the air. Whatever words she was going to say died on her lips, Téa having already disappeared up the stairs. Then, her eyes fell upon him, and she frowned deeply.

"What did you do?" she demanded in a poisonous tone.

He snorted at her, turning his head away, his hair swishing across his back. "None of your business, you old hag," he said in a low voice as he went up the stairs, ignoring the nasty look Chichi was giving him behind his back.

In the apartment, Téa was throwing a fresh pair of clothes into her duffel bag. He went up to her door, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he watched her blindly get her things together. His foot bumped up against a stack of whites, and he looked out, feeling mild surprise at the mess in the girl's room. Her bed, a worn out queen, was sliding slightly off the bottom mattress it sat on. The blinds on her window were yellow and missing a few pieces. More clothes were scattered around the floor and stacked around her closet, which he presumed she didn't use. The whole room smelt muggy and thick, but with a hint of what he could only assume was her own scent. Overall it was a rather disturbing scene, completely different from what he expected, even in her current living conditions.

He looked back to her, wondering if he could pull an explanation from her with a little bit of quiet scrutiny. Most of the time her back was to him, but every so often he would get a glimpse of her incensed expression, her blue eyes smoldering with hatred. It had been far too easy to get under her skin; there were already layers and layers of exhaustion that he could see on her, placed there long before his arrival. Anyone else who waked on by would not see it, but for someone who knew her- someone who knew the nature of humans in general- saw the cracks along her mask, revealing a graying creature underneath, void of it's light.

He would have to be careful, placing precise taps to different parts of her façade to draw out the answers he sought. It would require constant attention, lest she find a way to reverse the damage. Which meant her leaving wasn't acceptable.

"What are you doing?" he asked, taking a step into her room.

She turned to him, eyes blazing. "Out of my room, Bakura!" she snapped. When he didn't comply, she reached down and threw a shoe at him. He swatted it out of the air, the worn tennis shoe colliding with the wall and leaving a grey scuff mark in it's wake.

"Watch it, girl!" he snarled. He took another step in to her room- just to spite her- and with a dangerous glint in his eye he warned darkly, "You do not want to test my patience." He eyed her bag for a moment, and then gestured to it sharply. "I'll ask you only one more time: what are you doing?"

She fixed him with a hateful glare, her lips shaking with what he could assume were skillfully suppressed curses. Her hands gripping her bag with a shivering ferocity, she suddenly turned around and continued packing, her words carrying an icy tone.

"Work," she said, and before he could reply, she held up a firm hand. "And _you're _staying here!"

She was down to her very last good nerve with him. She had made a complete fool out of her on the bus- and that was only part of the day! Everywhere else they had gone, he always seemed to have something extremely lewd and disturbing to quip about, especially in the vicinity of others. At first she was just going to ignore him. If she didn't fuel the fire, it would die out- at least, that was what she had thought. If anything, her silence seemed to feed his flames and eventually she had snapped when he had stolen her birth control.

Thinking on the incident made a hot blush creep into her face. She only took them to be careful. Perhaps it was a small grace that she needed to be grateful about. It was better him thinking she was loose than a tight-legged prude. He'd of have even more to say about it, and her personal space would become even more violated.

_I can't have any of that, _whispered her scared thoughts, thinking about the incredibly seductive and dangerous aura of his that had nearly sent her to the ground in a heap of quivering jelly. She zipped and picked up her bag, ignoring the bland look Bakura was giving her room. Clearing her throat, she pointed angrily out into the hall.

"Out," she said a final time.

He almost appeared startled when he looked back to her, but he registered her words quickly and his dark brown eyes flashed angrily. "You seem to keep forgetting your place," he murmured menacingly, making her flinch. He read her reaction, and he faked a step forward, causing her trip and fall back on her bed. With a smug smirk, he turned around and went back into the hall, moving to go into the living room.

Téa grunted with pain and rolled off her bag, rubbing her thigh where her stiletto's heel had dug into her sensitive skin. She shot an angry glare in the direction where the white-haired menace had disappeared to and murmured a curse. "I hate that man," she whispered with utter hatred as she hauled herself back to her feet. Making sure to lock her door on the way back out, she crossed the living room and stopped at the front door, not bothering to spare him a passing glance.

"If you're not here when I get back, I'll assume you've left. Which is just fine with me." Her words were oozing poisonous contempt, and the air around her seemed to chill. With a flip of her hair, she exited the apartment, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Bakura listened to her descend the stairs, and then he rolled his eyes. "Such a haughty little bitch," he commented with a sneer. Folding his hands behind his head, he looked ahead of him out of the window. It was reaching the seventeenth hour and the sun was still bright in the sky. He could assume she would be gone until early the next morning. While he could go for days without sleep, waiting up for her could be quite boring, and if there was one thing he hated, it was being bored.

_I could go through her room, _he thought with a private snicker, her warnings falling on deaf ears. There was something of interest in that room, although he could not be sure as to what it was. It had only just caught his attention before she had interrupted him with her screeching.

_Or, _he continued on, _I can do a bit of exploring. _

He got up off the futon and went to the window, peering down into the alleyway below. Seeing nothing of interest, he stepped out onto the fire escape, going forward and resting a hand on iron railing, staring at the busy street in front of the building. There were many fools he could pick out just by glancing; an ignorant tourist separating himself from the crowd for a scenic picture; a woman scantily dressed with a spaghetti strap purse; an elderly woman trying to juggle overflowing shopping bags in her arms. They were all fresh pickings, little scores that helped him get his fix for a little bit of excitement.

Yet, in the wake of Téa's departure, none of those once satisfying targets remotely piqued his interest. There was only one thing he really wanted to do, and it involved her misplaced comment from earlier that morning.

"Sir_, the only time I'm nice to someone is when I'm paid to be nice. And you… Well, you would have to pay a _lot_."_

"Now why on Earth would my little Téa be saying such things…?" Of course he already had a pretty good idea, but to see where it all went down was a temptation he could not deny. So, with an ease that was far from being human, he leapt over the railing, grabbed hold of the support bar, and slid down the side of the fire escape, landing gracefully down below. Brushing his hands together to rid of the dirt, he stuck his hands into his pockets and strode out into the street, slipping in seamlessly into the crowd.

* * *

Apparently, Bakura had frazzled her nerves more than she had thought, for not a minute after she walked into Higgins, she was immediately swarmed by questions and less than careful prodding by Minnie.

"Oh woah girl, you look _tired!" _Minnie hovered over her as Téa put her bag down in front of her mirror, sinking tiredly down onto her stool. "What time did ya get home?"

"Four," she mumbled, her shoulders slumping at the memory. "I got lost."

"Lost?" Minnie sat down next to her, confusion plastered across her face. "But it's a one-way trip back to your house! How in da world did ya get _lost?"_

Téa was even too exhausted to correct Minnie, but she really didn't care at that moment. She was floating along the conversation like a numb body in a lazy river. She leaned forward and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, rubbing the spots out of her vision. "I was feeling frustrated, so I decided to take the long way home. I kind of lost focus and I took a wrong turn. Ended up completely turned upside down."

"But- But it rained-"

Téa laughed. "Oh, I _know _it rained." She sighed. "I tried to find shelter and the only place I could find was an old occult shop." She continued on dryly, "The help I received there was less than satisfactory." Sitting back up, she slowly unzipped her bag, yawning. "To make a long story short, I got four hours of sleep and the rest of my day was extremely long."

Minnie let out a low whistle, turning on her stool. "I do _not_ wanna be you right now."

"No," replied Téa curtly as she unsnapped her cover-up loudly, "you do not."

Téa had deliberately left out Bakura's arrival. The less people who knew about him, the better. All he needed to make her life even more miserable was to find out if Téa had made any close companions. She wasn't as gung-ho as she used to be; she couldn't just drop everything in order to save someone anymore- ignoring the fact that it was she who had been in danger most of the time.

_Details, details…_

She applied her makeup heavily to mask her exhaustion. Just as she finished doing her hair- straightened and part pinned up with a pair of hair sticks- Roland walked in and began handing out that nights schedule. She would start of as a waitress, and would later be called into private rooms if she was needed. She let out a sigh of relief; serving the guests was usually very easy compared to private parties, although the tips were generally less. On the other hand, a waitress could usually pocket a few extra bucks under the table without the house knowing.

"We had a good night last night," said Roland in his smooth British accent, smoke rings puffing out of his ever-present pipe. "Let's see if we can have a repeat, hm?" His eyes caught Téa's, and he tipped his head at her ever so slightly before turning back around. "Five more minutes!"

Minnie nudged her in the side. "Looks like Roland's still pretty happy about that free McKinley, huh?"

"I wouldn't say it was 'free,' but yeah, it looks like." Another bonus. Dealing with an irritated Roland was like trying to calm down a rabid animal. There was no listening to reason. All they wanted to do was bite your head off. When he was happy, he was a puppy, albeit with a nicotine addiction and wandering eyes.

_Shocking. I'd rather be here than back at home. _But even if Roland was rabid, and she was working private rooms with a hundred thousand imp men, she would skip right into their perverted arms if it kept her away from the alabaster thief.

She let out a sigh to release the tension in her body, and then adjusted her spare dress, her other one still a torn mess on her floor. Thinking about her room made her wince; she hadn't cleaned like she had sworn she would. Bakura was an exception however, so she decided to forgive herself and instead placed the blame upon his stupid shoulders.

_Hopefully he'll get tired of me and get out of my hair soon. _It made her briefly wonder where he would go next. On that topic, why was he in Chinatown, New York in the first place? Where else had he gone? Surely there were more to his travels; two years was a long time after all. _Well, wherever he goes, as long as it's away, it's just fine._

A hand on her shoulder startled her out of her thoughts. "Are you going to be okay?" asked Minnie, her long, beautiful, hay-colored hair hanging around her face in thick, sparkling curls. She was such a pretty girl and she was incredibly sweet, although she could quickly grow a backbone when the situation called for it. She reminded Téa of so many things; people, places, her past. It was as if everything that had been her life had come together in a physical form and created her. It was bittersweet, being reminded of things she wanted to bury, but perhaps it was that quality alone that made Téa love her so much.

_The part of me that doesn't want to forget…_

"Yes," said Téa suddenly, turning away from her hand, feigning to reach for her shawl. "I'll be just fine. Thanks, Minnie."

Minnie's hand remained poised in the air, but eventually she let it fall. Slowly, she nodded, and while Téa had gotten away with not hurting the girl's feelings, there was no hiding the uncertainty in her words. "If you say so, Téa…" She gave her a weak smile. "Be careful, okay? I don't need you passing out on the floor!"

Téa managed a light laugh, although the small, uncomfortable pressure in the pit of her stomach did not go away. "I'll make sure to be careful."

Minnie nodded, and then grumbled out almost unintelligible curses as Roland's snapping signaled them to start working. The blonde offered out her arm and Téa took it, forcing a glittering smile onto her face. So the night wasn't going to be as easy as she had thought it would be. It was still better than Bakura by a long shot.

* * *

"I need two scotches and a margarita," breathed out Téa to the bartender, carefully lowering a tray of empty glasses and mugs down onto the back counter behind the bar. As soon as she stood back up, another order was being balanced on her shoulder. With a quick thanks, she swept out of the bar and went down the short flight of stairs to the lounge area below.

The quiet chaos of the bar was infinitely better than being holed up in the same tiny room for the entire night, despite the confusing paradox-like quality to the main part of Higgins. The lounge was an average size with two levels. The upper level consisted of the bar and a few tables meant more for food and casual meetings. The left side of the upper level led to the six private rooms that were currently occupied. The lower level, taking up the middle of the building, looked like something that came straight out of an Old English novel, with rich leather furniture, thick red carpet, expensive rugs, busts of old literature geniuses including Shakespeare, statues of beautiful, naked women, and a roaring fireplace- electric. Here there were no dining tables, just large lounging tables and open boxes of complementary cigars. The murmurs of men hummed through the air, with the occasional airy laugh of a woman. It was a cultured man's paradise.

"Here we go, sirs," said Téa evenly, forcing her words to come out as smoothly as possible, despite her exhaustion. "I have your scotch on the rocks and rum and cokes."

"Thank you very much," said a mustachioed man as he reached for his scotch. He fished through his front pocket and pulled forth a five, handing it to her. "For your troubles."

Téa, balancing the tray, had no way of grabbing it- which was just fine. There were other ways of holding her money. Leaning forward slightly, she gave him a sweet smile, eyes sparkling. "If you could just tuck that right in here, I'd be ever so grateful."

The mustachioed man's friends chuckled at him, and the older man himself shook with laughter. With as much gentlemanly behavior he could show in that situation, he tucked the bill into the inside of the top of her strapless dress. Téa straightened and flashed him a appreciative smile before moving on to tend to the rest of his friends. Not surprisingly, they too all had tips for her and were very ready to give them. With a friendly roll of her eyes, she served each of the men, asked if there was anything else she could do for them, and then went back to the bar to pick up the other order.

She was surprisingly having a fun time. The customers that night were nice and respectful, and there were very few moments of loud drunkenness. Occasionally she would run into Minnie and they would chat for a bit before they went off in their separate directions, hips swaying seductively as they walked away. Téa herself was feeling a bit more playful that night, a side-effect of the relief she felt from being away from the spirit. She was willing to show a little bit more skin and flirt more casually, the growing amount of money in her bra enough proof of that fact.

Discreetly she turned around and adjusted the money in her front, the paper scratching against her skin uncomfortably. Eventually she got it settled, and with a small laugh at her own absurdity, she went back to the bar where her other tray sat.

Unfortunately, on the other side of that tray was Roland.

"Téa, my little ember!" He was sipping a glass of scotch, not unlike the ones sitting on the tray. "Serve these last drinks, and then go to room two. You have a customer waiting."

Téa would have complained immediately, but something stopped her. How strange it was to see such a heavy drink in her boss's hand. Roland never drank when he was working, and when the rare occasion struck him, it was only a glass of wine. On top of that, he seemed almost a little rattled, as if he had heard something disturbing. It was barely anything and someone who didn't know him as well as she did wouldn't have noticed anything.

"Yeah," she said, an odd reply when he took her off of witnessing duty without any warning. "Sure, okay."

He nodded at her, gestured to the tray, and then turned back around and left the bar to continue his rounds. She watched him for a short moment, and then gathered up the drinks and went back down the stairs, handing them out as slowly as possible. The main room was smoky, but the smaller rooms were always an air hazard. On top of that, the less than respectable men tended to lean towards the private areas of the lounge, their minds deep in the gutter. She still had two hours left. Those two hours were going to drag on painfully slow.

"Thanks, beautiful," said the man as she handed him his margarita. There was no tip that time, so she quietly excused herself and reluctantly made her way to the second room, her exhaustion creeping back up on her. Briefly she stopped by the bar to pick up the complimentary bundle of wine and cigars that all guests in the private rooms received. Briefly she met eyes with Minnie as she talked with a young gentlemen.

"Private room," Téa mouthed silently, and Minnie winced at her painfully. The older woman shrugged- a sign of her resignation- and then went to the second door on the upper floor. She pressed her ear to the door, trying to gauge the situation before entering. Hearing silence, she heaved a sigh of relief; at least it was a small party. Gently rapping her knuckles on the stained-glass window of the door, she said in a very feminine manner, "Higgins service."

There was no reply, so she frowned a bit before turning the knob and entering. It was only after she shut the door and looked ahead that she realized she had made a terrible mistake.

The gift basket slipped out of her limp fingers, but he caught it before it could touch the floor. As he straightened slowly, his other hand slowly snaked behind her and urged her forward towards the booth, his pearly white smile gleaming even in the low red light.

"You seem surprised to see me," said Bakura conceitedly, sliding into the seat across from hers on the other side of the table. He spoke as he rifled through the basket, skipping over the cigars and going after the wine. "Honestly, did you really think I was going to stay in that pitiful excuse you call an apartment? Especially since I could learn a bit more about you." He smirked at her as he popped the cork. "Who would have thought that Téa Gardner was a lounge girl?" His eyes darted down briefly, and he chuckled. "Now I know you're well endowed girl, but surely that's not all that is stuffing that pretty bra of yours?"

Téa, in a state of shock, pulled herself out of her dumb thoughts at the mention of her breasts. With a furious blush, she crossed her arms over her chest, turning her body away from his prying eyes. "Pervert!" she exclaimed, feeling for the first time in a long time very self-conscious.

Bakura shrugged as he took a swig of his wine. "At least I'm not a whore."

Indignant fury flared up within her so quickly, she briefly saw in black and white. She stood up and stormed over to him, blue eyes flashing. "I am no whore," seethed Téa. "You want a whore? You go two blocks down. There are _plenty _of whores there who would even cater to _your _desires--"

He moved too fast. One minute his brown orbs were glaring at her blue ones, and the next his arm was around her waist and her whole world rushed above her head in a blur of red and black. Suddenly she was in his lap, her back pressed up against his chest, his hand placed firmly on her hip. She froze up when she felt the Millennium Ring move against her. Agonizing chills ran through her body, followed by waves of nausea that threatened to turn her stomach inside out. She was so occupied with the black magic crackling against her that did not have time to prepare for the continuing movement of his hands. Soon, she was crying out as one hand wound itself in her hair, pulling her head back against his shoulder, the other pressing just underneath her breast. She could feel his breath against her cheek, almost tasting the wine on her tongue. Her nose was pressed against his neck, and she could smell something masculine about him. If crimson were a scent, it would have been his, like cinnamon and dying roses and _blood-_

All too suddenly she realized whose body she was trapped against. Cold, sickening fear rushed through her as if she had been dropped into a icy lake and the water froze over above her. For the first time in a long time, she whimpered, her bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. She was in danger. She was alone- more alone than she had ever thought she could be. Most of all, she was scared and all she wanted at that moment was to go home.

She heard his tongue slide across his teeth before he spoke. "Téa," he began in a low whisper, his silver-tongued words sliding across her flesh like a newly sharpened knife, "I'm beginning to tire of your insolence. At first it was rather fun; it has been quite a while since anyone had the guts to rebuke me. However…" His fingers fidgeted in her hair, and then they tugged again sharply, causing her to cry out in pain. "My patience has now run out."

She was breathing erratically, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest. Swarming thoughts of regret and loss were running through her head, a blurred mess of past sorrows that made tears spring to her eyes. She heard a chuckle, and then a choked sob fell from her when she felt his firm, wet tongue lick up the tears that had begun to slide down her cheek.

"You taste delicious, Téa," commented Bakura huskily, the hand on her side moving upwards to caress her breast, his pale fingers squeezing slightly. "You know, I wouldn't mind a little bit of fun. I admit I caught myself staring while you flaunted yourself around with your little friends in those skirts of yours. And despite the multitudes of men you've encountered, I'm sure I can leave a _lasting _impression."

Utter repulsion was clawing at her stomach, but fear held her in place. A muted voice was screaming at her, but whenever he moved, the Millennium Ring moved as well and it's dark aura pierced her repeatedly. Even when his mouth came down and ran itself across the front of her neck, his tongue darting forward to lick her flesh, she could do nothing more than whine, her whole body shivering with conflicting emotions.

"You should have seen my delight when I discovered you worked here. A girl whose dreams were Julliard, now a little lap warmer. Tell me." His hand slid down her thigh, digging in the muscles in her leg. "Did those dancing lessons all those years ago make you limber?" He laughed. "Of course they did. How 'freaky' do you get in the sack, my dear? I bet you turn quite a few heads, don't you? Mmm, what I wouldn't do to see you twisted in your sheets…"

The more he touched and talked to her, the greater her repulsion became. The moment his hand slid across her inner thigh, her mouth suddenly found the will to move, albeit slowly. So she chose her words wisely, lest she waste the moment.

"Fuck off, Bakura."

Bakura paused in his ministrations, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Then, he laughed, short and quick, before it turned into a snarl. In one fluid motion, she was being twisted and her face was shoved onto the leather seat of the booth, her arm bent painfully behind her back. He knelt on top of her, the ends of his hair tickling the bare part of her exposed back.

"I'm not playing any more games with you, Téa," he seethed, the amount of hatred in his voice nearly palpable. "Besides, you- a _failure- _have no right to cross me in any way."

"I am _not _a failure!" bit Téa back, her words slightly slurred, her cheek pressed up against the sticking leather.

"Ah, but you _are_. Whatever happened to Julliard, Téa? 'I'm going to be a dancer,' you said. You see? Even _I _knew of your dreams you spoke of them so often. And now look at you, at the mercy of these nameless perverts as you struggle to keep yourself afloat on a moldy raft supplied by a senile old bat who obviously has more than a few screws loose."

Téa was panting heavily, her face sliding against the seat as her tears fell, rubbing her skin raw. Her frustrations were beginning to grow, her hatred blossoming into an inferno as the past few days of her life slowly came together and began to coalesce into a sentient thing that was clawing it's way through her brain to the back of her skull.

"Get the fuck off of me!" she screamed, kicking out harshly. He grunted and shifted himself so he was pinning her fully. Distantly, she felt a firm heat pressed up against her lower back, and she suppressed the urge to gag. "You're a twisted bastard, you know that?!"

"I can't help that you excite me, Téa," Bakura panted, his fingernails digging into her wrist just before he twisted her arm some more, causing her to cry out in agony. "Gods I love it when you do that." He twisted again and she screamed again, causing him to laugh. "Yes, just like that! Scream for me again, you whore, you pitiful excuse for a creature!"

She was crying fully now, her arm feeling as if it was going to snap clean off. She was arching as far as she could into him to try and relieve the tension, but all he did was twist more. She was feeling helpless, like an animal caught in a trap. Anxiety was scratching across her skin, making her shake uncontrollably, her teeth gnashing together, eyes darting across the room, making her vision blurred and confused. Over and over she could hear his words in her head, resounding her failures, her fallen glory that she had once coveted. Where in the hell did her future go? It was here, pinned beneath a powerful and dark spirit that was minutes from causing irreparable harm to her.

Something within her kicked to life, and she recognized it as the instinct to survive. Garbled thoughts hashed and re-hashed swum through her mind, little plans that erupted from hundreds of thousands of years of nature and evolution. Adrenaline pumped through her body, amplifying all of her emotions, making her a shuddering vessel of near-insanity. Every single movement was being catalogued, every gesture, every word. They were moving along to her internal clock, the tick-ticking of her heart waiting for the moment, visions of where she needed to go coming and going, fading off into the spinning whirlwind of her breath as her world focused down to a single pinpoint, everything that she was and would ever be condensed into the tiniest speck.

For a moment, everything was quiet.

Then she was thrown into a roaring river, a speck becoming a grain of sand, a grain of sand becoming a pebble, a pebble a rock, a rock a boulder, a boulder a mountain, towering over, strength running deep within her deepest self. And like all the other inexplicable acts of man, Téa screamed and hurled Bakura off of her. Too surprised to even make a sound, the thief crashed into the table, wine and cigars scattering as he rolled off of the edge and onto the opposite booth.

Téa, mind still in shock, could only comprehend the smallest of thoughts. _Get away, _they whispered, her legs moving on their own accord. _Get away from the man._

She opened the door and exited as easily as she did any other time. This, of course, was completely contrary to what the guests had heard not moments ago. Téa did not notice the curious looks from the lounge members, or the concerned whispers her fellow hostesses. She didn't even hear the increasingly aggravated questions from Roland, nor did she hear him demand the location of the guest in room number two who had mysteriously disappeared. She walked right on by them, her face a pasty, blank shell, void of any response. She went into the dressing room and began to dress quickly, not hearing Minnie enter.

"Téa…?" Minnie walked hesitantly forward, a sliver of fear piercing her heart when she noticed the red fingerprints along her arm and her disheveled appearance. What scared her the most was the complete and total lack of emotion of the woman's face. It was almost as if the Téa she knew had disappeared all together and all that remained was the body she had left behind. It almost made her want to cry.

"Téa, please tell me what happened." Minnie reached out and touched her shoulder, but as soon as she did, Téa whipped around and smacked her hand away, her eyes burning with fury. Minnie recoiled, holding her shaking hand to her chest. The two women stared at each other for a long time, a long silence falling between them. Then, whatever had affected Téa disappeared and her face fell back into a somber mask. Picking up her bag without even the slightest complain, even with her quickly bruising arm, she left Higgins without another word.

As soon as the back door swung shut, Minnie sniffled, her eyes shimmering with tears. "Oh Téa, what's wrong with you…?"

* * *

Her living room was cold, which was strange to her. Wasn't it warm not too long ago?

She heard him enter the apartment behind him. At the sound of the door closing, a flash of something burned at her heart, but before she could act upon it, it was gone, leaving her hovering on the edge of an unknown precipice.

_What… What am I…?_

He snorted derisively, walking up behind her, getting close enough to where the front of his coat was just barely brushing up against her back. "You really did a number on me back there." His deep, rough voice reverberated through her body, causing her to shake, but with what, she did not know. "I didn't know you had it in you, to be honest. Nonetheless…" His voice took on a darker tone, promised punishment etched into every letter. "It was inexcusable."

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't _breathe. _Her world was slowly beginning to expand, the haze she had been wading through beginning to clear, and what it was starting to reveal was causing her heart to twist. Sounds and smells and sensations were gaining depth and meaning, but it was all wrong. It was gross and sickening and not her; it was a world that had betrayed her, that had left her alone and defenseless. She didn't want to go back, but it was the only _to _go, and the more she pleaded against it, the faster everything moved.

"What is it going to take for me to get through your pretty little head that the game your playing is _mine?" _His hand grasped onto her shoulder and she spun her around. Her world swayed, her stomach jolting, her breathing irregular. Words were becoming sensation and the more he spoke, the sharper the cuts to her conscience became.

"You're a little screw-up, Téa. You can't even listen to _me_, and what I ask for is infinitely easier than what most idiots on this planet request." He grabbed onto her chin roughly. "Is this why you left Dominio? Huh?" He forced her face up, but she could not see him. All she could see was the approaching reality barreling on towards her, approaching her with the intent to crush her in her entirety.

"You're nothing," he spat. "You might as well throw in the towel. You're done. Finished. No one will help you or take you back. In fact, the only person that seems to bother about you is me. Not even that nosy hag seems to give a damn about your well-being. At least _I _am trying to teach you some common decency, but you can't even get that right." He jerked her face in his grasp, watching her darting eyes begin to flutter. "Are you listening, harlot? Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth? Or maybe that's not good enough. _Maybe _I'm just going to have to show you just how far you've fallen, in terms only _you _can understand."

She was shaking violently, everything coming down to the wire. His words were becoming her words, and their words were slowly being drowned away. But then he became pain, and she was pinned up against the booth, or being taunted on the bus, or being accused of things she wasn't guilty of in front of the pharmacy. Her home was crumbling away- an excuse for a home, with mold and screeching women--

But no! This was hers! She had earned it through blood, sweat, and tears!

And yet his words kept boring into her skin, going deeper and deeper until they cracked her bones- the bones in her shoulder, the bones being yanked as he led her to her bedroom.

_Whore…_

Her body jerked.

_You little whore._

The sight of the bed sharpened in her blurred vision.

_Failure._

Her shivering world gave one last shudder, and then her resolve shattered completely.

Bakura was ignorant to what was going on behind him. He did however notice that she had stopped. With an irritated growl, he moved to swing her forward. "Get over here--"

Her wrist slipped out of his grasp. He cursed loudly and turned to chase after her. In the process, he nearly tripped right over her. Looking down, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

"What the-?"

The sounds he heard were those of a broken creature trapped in a world of anguish. With a startled expression, he watched as the girl below him pulled her legs to her chest, her body trembling violently until she seized up and broke back down into tattered pieces.

She was sobbing. It was not crying, not the small shedding of tears at a sad incident. It was a compete tearing of her soul as it split into thousands of thousands of pieces. Her arms were wrapped around her, her body laying limply against the wall as fat tears streamed down her face, her eyes a frighteningly deep blue color. The sobs that were falling from her lips were soul-wrenching, able to crack even the coldest of hearts. It was a complete surrender to one's fears and mistakes, the breaking of a bridge tempered through years and years of love and care.

For Bakura, it was mind-numbing.

And then, anything after that was swallowed up into darkness.

* * *

A/N: Agh, cliffhangers! I didn't mean for another one to show up, but it did. I apologize! [bows] Everything shall be explained in the next chapter (which is the end of the first part, out of three), followed by the more romantic part of the story. Oh yays :D Romance with Bakura… Oh wow. Not so sure how that's going to work…

Oh man, these long chapters… It's been a while since I've been pushing them out at this length. It's tiring! Sometimes I just want to stop and say, "Nope. That's it. That's all they get. NO MOAR!" And then I keep going because I'm insane. You guys lucky ;P

I would like to thank those who have given me feedback. It's incredibly nice of you and it inspires me to write more. Please, if you have any comments or questions, let me know. I want to make this the best that I can :D

Love and hugs to all!


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